


The Devil's Music

by Amazonia_8



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Castiel, Community: deancasbigbang, DCBB 2016, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking, Everyone Ships Castiel/Dean Winchester, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Humor, Lawyer Castiel, M/M, Musician Dean, Recreational Drug Use, Rock and Roll, Semi-Public Sex, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-28 11:29:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8444125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amazonia_8/pseuds/Amazonia_8
Summary: The Hunters have been getting on just fine without him, but when his brother gets into a jam, Dean's called out of exile and given one more chance to strap on a guitar and hit the road with his family.One tiny problem. None too happy with the group's hard rock reputation, the investors have sent an agent to keep the brothers out of trouble. The hot as sin, socially awkward agent who Dean may have accidentally propositioned on the flight over.But you know what's more fun than misbehaving on the road to the roar of thousands of fans? Seeing if he can get Castiel to misbehave, too.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First off I want to thank my amazing artist [YTyuzhihan](http://ytyuzhihan.tumblr.com/). She came through with three gorgeous pieces that were everything I could have hoped for, even in the face of technical difficulties. I can't say enough how thrilled I am that she chose to do my fic. Thank you [YTyuzhihan](http://ytyuzhihan.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> And thank you to the DCBB mods for all your hard work. I wouldn't want your job.

 

 

“I’m going to assume you haven’t been watching the news.”

“Hello to you too, Bobby. What time is it?” Dean grumbled, sitting up in bed, rubbing his face.

“Time to get yourself decent. And keep your goddamned phone on, His Eminence is sending a car.”

“Nope, not doing this. We had a deal.”

Bobby grunted over the line, his scorn so familiar by now it was mostly ignored, “Just turn on yer tv and call me when you get there.”

Dean hunted for the remote, “Which channel?” he sighed.

“Take yer pick.”

===

NASHVILLE

“It’s a shitshow.”

“Come on Crowley, whatever happened to any press is good press?”

Crowley poured another scotch and replayed the footage on the screen behind his desk, glowering at it as if he could intimidate the images into changing. The sound was off but GMZ always ran a ticker so it was easy enough to follow. Not like Dean hadn’t already seen it multiple times by now.

“This kind of press is good if you’re a nobody sitcom star scrabbling for another minute of fame, but Sam is at an incredibly crucial juncture in his career. This was the very last thing I needed right now.”

“He’s done worse than this.”

Only a few of Sam’s inner circle could legitimately attest to that, but it was still very much the truth, as Crowley’s sardonic little harumph confirmed.

“True, but he didn’t have THE BLOODY FOOTAGE BROADCAST ON EVERY NETWORK!!!” Crowley screamed. Dean only shrugged.

“You can spin this man, didn’t you have your plasma replaced with bullshit and deceit when you got promoted to this job?”

“He’s giving the Lincoln Memorial a lap dance!”

They both turned back to the screen.

“That he is.”

“In front of the Saint Augustine Girl’s Prep Debate Team field trip!”

“The one with braces certainly seems to be learning things.”

“Oh, well then, do you know what the little moppet’s going to learn about tomorrow? That Sam Winchester has been hospitalized for exhaustion due to the extensive rehearsals he’s been putting in for this upcoming tour.”

“His tour? Wait- is Sam ok?”

“Of course he is you twit. Now, I’ve already taken care of the charges and put him up in a suite at MedStar Washington Hospital. Your job is to go down there as his dear, devoted brother and sit by his side at the press conference on Friday where he is going to give a heartfelt, sincere apology for every single pelvic gyration, after which he’s going to make the very special announcement  that, for this tour only, the original line up of The Hunters is getting back together.”

The silence was deafening, and out of the corner of his eye, Dean caught Crowley’s assistant giving him the thumbs up with a terrified grin. He hadn’t even noticed there was another person in the room.

“Are you kidding me? Because I explicitly remember being strong armed into a contract that- ”

“Do you remember _reading_ that contract?”

“....................”

===

“…. _non-compliance with respect to this Agreement by the laws (including, without limitation, the par value of any portion of any written advice to pay the Participant)--_ Charlie what the hell does that even mean?”

“It means that you’re stalling and you need to get your ass on a plane right now. I’m not sitting here translating Crowley’s mother tongue to you over the phone while you day drink.”

“But I know I put something in there about tour buses! Help me find it!”

“You’re not on tour yet, dickhole, that doesn’t apply. Sam needs to be at this press conference in two days and at rehearsal in four. Take your balls out of your purse and get on that plane or I will kick your ass in front of the road crew. It leaves at three thirty, they even put you in business class so you can get the good snacks. A car will be waiting and I’ll meet you at the hotel. Don’t puss out on me bitch.”

===

Bouncing his leg rapidfire up and down, Dean took a mental tally of everything he’d packed. Fuck it, he could buy new clothes.  Crap, but he’d put his favorite leather jacket in there. Maybe after he bulldozed his way off this plane in a panic he could get the airline to ship it home to him.

Yup, that would work.

The line of boarding passengers had trickled out, this was his chance. Dean squared his shoulders and unbuckled his seatbelt, shooting up just as another person barreled into the empty seat beside him, knocking him back down.

“Oh my! I’m so sorry sir!” The man panted, mortified. “Are you alright?”

He had a brand new curse to try out, something he’d recently learned from a Shoney’s waitress that was heart-stoppingly offensive. It died cold on his tongue the moment his eyes focused on the man seated next to him.

Everything about him was ruffled, as if he’d been running top speed for a mile before he got here, tie askew, trenchcoat falling off, hair a wild tangle. He had a wide pink mouth stretched in a concerned line and his eyes looked about ready to pop from his head in shock. Blue eyes, deep, forgot-my-own-name blue that had been Dean’s sexual catnip since before he’d hit puberty. He was gorgeous.

He could practically hear tires squealing on pavement as he threw everything in reverse.

“Yeah, I’m good. Overslept?” He laughed, turning on the full watt charm, gauging his odds. The ruddy color of the man’s cheeks went a shade darker and Dean licked his lips.

“No, I woke at the accustomed hour, but this trip was sprung on me rather last minute.” The man growled in rough edged baritone.

“ _Good morning everyone and thank you for flying Globus Air…_.”

The plane jolted backwards and suddenly Dean remembered that he was in a giant metal tube about to hurtle through the air in defiance of nature. That his escape had failed.

“....your seatbelt, sir.”

“Huh?” Dean looked over at the weary flight attendant sighing at him.

“You need to fasten your seatbelt,” The man beside him whispered.

“Yeah, ok,” he fumbled with the buckle. “Can I get a whiskey while you’re here? And maybe bring a buddy with him?” Dean tried to wink, but the flirtation was hard to pull off while he was in danger of throwing up.

“Sir, we’re about to take off, we’ll offer drink service once we hit cruising altitude.” She barely bothered to finish her sentence before walking away.

“Pardon me, but you seem distressed. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Can you convince them to stay on the ground?” Dean smiled wanly, squeezing his eyes shut when the safety instructions started.

The goddamned things he did for his brother.

“I see, you do not enjoy flying. Well let me assure you that you have nothing to fear.”

“If you say flying is safer than driving, I’m gonna puke all over your shoes.”

“Here,” the man rummaged through his bag before stuffing it back under the seat in front. “Have some gum. The mint will help your stomach and chewing alleviates discomfort when we change altitude.”

“Thanks,” Dean wanted to chuckle at the overly formal way he was presented a stick of gum, but at that moment the engines geared up for take off. Dean blanched and grabbed onto the hand rests in panic. His fingers closed around the back of the stranger’s hand, unaware it had been occupying the space. Dean stared down at where he was absolutely holding the hand of another adult, unable to let go.

He looked over, “Sorry man, you’re just gonna have to ride this out.”

But the man didn’t look upset or try to pull away. He squeezed Dean’s fingers once before looking out the window at the tilted sky.

The gum actually did help, and by the time they reached cruising altitude, Dean was able to pry himself off of the handsome stranger with a red faced apology.

“It’s quite alright. Are you feeling any better? We could close the window if it makes you anxious.”

“No, that’s ok. It’s mostly the crashing part that freaks me out, but if we go down, I gotta watch it happen.”

The man frowned at him slightly, it was a good look on him. “That’s an unusual way of dealing with your potential death. Most people wouldn’t want to see it coming.”

“Don’t fear the reaper, right?”

“That’s a lyric to a song, correct? Blue Oyster Cult. My cousin made me listen to it recently seeing as I’d never heard it. I quite like the themes of love and death explored by the singer.”

“How have you never heard that song before?” Dean asked, incredulous. “Not even on that cowbell skit with Christopher Walken?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t seen that. I don’t watch much television. My cousin is very fond of popular music, though. He has been trying to ‘school’ me in the fundamentals of ‘rock n’ roll’.”

Good god the guy used air quotes. Anyone else and Dean would have punched them on principle, but this guy was clearly being as sincere as anyone possibly could with the gesture and Dean couldn’t help finding it charming as hell. He began to wonder if DC was this guy’s last stop or if he was moving on.

“So, what, are you just not into music?”

“Oh no, I quite enjoy music! But my family were very strict growing up and forbid most of it, so I fear I am at a loss with most contemporary bands. My cousin is quite the opposite, he travels very often now, but when he is in town he stays with me. He bought me a very elaborate record player that I barely know how to use, we listen to records that he deems vital and he explains the history behind the songs and the bands. We have almost nothing in common, but I’ve come to really enjoy this time we spend together. Have you ever heard of a musician named Lou Reed?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Oh,” The man blushed, a real, pink cheeked, eye lowered blush that Dean had never witnessed on a person who wasn’t trying to be deliberately coquettish. “Yes, I’m sure you have. This must be terribly boring for you, I don’t usually speak so openly to strangers.”

“Hey, no worries,” Dean smiled at him. “I like it, you’re keeping my mind off the fact that we’re traveling hundreds of miles per hour, thousands of feet in the air, at the mercy of pilots who probably haven’t slept in thirty-seven hours. Keep talking, did you like Lou Reed?”

The man relaxed visibly and toyed with one of the buttons on his trenchcoat. “Not all of it, but some I found very inventive.”

“This cousin of yours get you onto Zeppelin yet?”

“You’re referring to Led Zeppelin, correct? Not yet, he tells me we need to set aside a good bit of time so that I’m able to process it all.”

“Are you telling me you’ve never heard Stairway to Heaven?”

“No.”

Dean chuckled and looked up at the call button. “I actually wish I could see that. I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t know that song back to front. My dad used to play it in the car when we were still in diapers. Sometimes I’ve wondered what that might be like, hearing one of those songs for the first time as an adult, nothing attached. You’re cousin’s a smart man, gotta promise me you’ll give that band the respect it deserves.”

“I will.” He swore, solemn as an oath.

“I’m Dean, by the way.” He held out his hand.

“Castiel.” The man shook, a good firm grip, and Dean noticed how nicely shaped his fingers were, the enticing flex of his wrist muscle as he squeezed back.

“Well Cas, looks like the bar’s open and I’m buying.”

A petite blonde flight attendant made her way up the aisle, tapping out orders on her tablet with an even smile, but when she got to their row, her whole body tensed up, eyes wild and widening across her face.

“OH MY GOD!” She shrieked, every head in the area turning to look. “DEEEEAAN!”

“Shit.” he muttered.

“DEEEEEEEEEAAAANN!”

Seeing as this girl wouldn’t have been his type on the worst kind of bender, Dean was fairly certain he’d never slept with the woman. Which only meant one thing.

The Hunters were famous, _Sam Winchester_ was famous, but besides him, the lineup of the rest of the band had changed twice over the years, so that while most people would know his music, not many people knew Dean’s face except a very specific type of fan.

The kind of fan that would make a scene in a crowded airplane, crazy eyes and a manic smile.

“It’s happening, this is happening! SamIsLife43 totally spilled all over Tumblr but no one believed her because she’s said all this stuff before about knowing someone at Speed Demon and everyone just thought she wanted the attention because of that one time she posted, like, _clearly_ doctored photos of her and the two of you when, like, the date was totally wrong and she wasn’t even old enough to drive on the last original tour so there was no way. _No. Way_. But then this other blog was saying the same thing and then you’re here on my plane and that means you’re totally headed to DC, where - oh my god. Oh my god you’re going to see him, aren’t you?! OH MY GOD!”

“Listen, uhhh...Becky,” he murmured, looking at her nametag and plastering on his crowd face. “It’s real good to meet a fan, but I’m gonna need you to keep things hush hush, you get me? I’m sure you know how _private_ I am, right?”

Somehow her eyes got bigger. “Oh I _know_ ! I know everything about you, but mostly about _Sam_! Is he...is he ok? I heard the- you’re totally going to...to you know where and- “

“He’ll feel a whole lot better knowing he’s got a pretty girl like you rooting for him. In fact, if you can manage to get me and my friend Cas here a steady supply of those mini bottles, I’d be obliged to let him know just who’s been so nice to his brother, Becky….”

“ROSEN! It’s Becky Rosen and I _swear_ , I’ll take such good care of you! I mean not like- not that you aren’t good looking and all, but you’re not Sam. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry darlin’, you’re cute as a button, but Sammy’s the one with a thing for blondes.” He winked and Becky may have squeaked but it was too high to hear. “I’ll have whiskey if you wouldn’t mind. Cas, what’s your poison man?”

“I will have tea.”

“Tea? Don’t you want to unwind a little?”

“With honey.”

===

Becky was generous, he’d give her that. Unloading a cache of booze that had 10E giving him the stink eye, not to mention a plate of cookies from first class, at the bottom of which was a crumb covered paper with Becky’s phone number, email, and the words FOR SAM emboldened with more hearts than a woman out of her teens should really be using. Dean winked at her, mouth full of cookie, when she walked by for the thirtieth time, and made a show of shoving the paper in his front pocket.

He could tell Cas wanted to ask, but was too polite, sipping his tea, eyes tracking to Dean in curiosity. It was a little bit fun, stringing him along, he liked the feel of Castiel’s attention, reserved but focused. So unlike the kind he was used to. He began to piece together some way to keep that attention without tipping his hand. Even though, considering their earlier conversation, he was fairly certain this guy would have absolutely no idea who he was if given his full name, Dean was at least self aware enough to know what his odds of flirting with him would be if he tried the ‘I’m a rock star’ line. It was a very situation specific admission, and Cas didn’t seem like the type to get reeled in by it.

Six bottles in and Dean took pity, leaning into Castiel’s shoulder and testing how close he could get to the man’s ear.

“You watch sports, Cas?”

Castiel, he was positive, was not a sports kind of guy either.

He looked at Dean as if receiving a great secret, folding in slightly closer over the armrest, the heat of him tantalizing in the cocoon of their little row. God, those blue eyes were going to kill him, the way he could feel the grit in the man’s voice as he husked out an innocent _No_.  Dean stumbled a bit, distracted. “I - uh - I play pro…... soccer.  With my brother. You know how those soccer fans can be.” He whispered confidentially.

“I’ve heard they can be quite boisterous.”

“That’s for damn sure,” he huffed, cracking bottle number seven and draining it in one go.

Bottle eight.

“A lawyer? That’s pretty hot Cas. You get to yell ‘objection’ at the judge in your sharp little suits?”

And he looked beyond flustered, swallowing hard, and Dean remembered how fun the chase could be when there was no sure deal.

“Oh no, I strictly do finance law. I’ve never been inside a courtroom.”

“Still hot.”

Castiel tried to hide a surprised smile and Dean knew it was on.

Bottle eleven.

“You’ve got such nice hands, Cas.” Tracing the life line with his thumb, watching Castiel’s fingers curl at the contact, but he didn’t pull away.

Bottle fourteen.

“..........Wish I could take you in there right now just to see how good you look when I make you come...”

Bottle fifteen, (might have been sixteen) was where things went black.

===

Dean woke to the sound of someone gently calling his name and stroking his hair. Which was pleasant for the time right before he opened his eyes.

“Becky?!”

“Yes silly, we’re here!”

Dean looked around, the empty cabin a blur. He was still drunk, and Castiel was gone.

“I wanted to let you sleep, but the cleaning crew needs to turn over the plane.”

Dean stumbled down the aisle, only half hearing Becky’s pleas to tell Sam she’d said hi, feeling like he’d forgotten something important.

===

WASHINGTON D.C.

“Christ, you’re the only person I know who’d do sit-ups in a hospital.”

“Dean!”

Sam jumped up from the mat on the floor and bound over to his brother, pulling him into a giant, sweaty hug.

“Hey man, keep your sasquatch stink off me!” But he hugged him back anyway, dropping his bag to the floor.

It had been months since they’d seen each other, a quick stop over for Sam between flights. Lunch in the backyard, conversation choppy because it was still too hard to talk about music. Sam asking about friends Dean hadn’t talked to in ages. Dean standing on the porch alone, watching the limo drive his brother away.

“ _I_ stink? You smell like they scraped you off the floor of a bar. How much did you manage to convince them to serve you?”

“Just the exact right amount to help me make it through the flight.” Dean flopped back on the bed and fiddled with the reclining adjustment, ignoring the way his brother glared at his boots propped on the blanket. “Only good part was this guy sitting next to me, fucking gorgeous. He was weird too, never heard Zeppelin before. Like a nerdy, Amish accountant type, but hot. Kinda bummed I didn’t get his number. Sorta blacked out at the end there.”

“Super classy, Dean.” Sam shoved Dean’s legs out of the way and sat at the end of the bed, toweling off his face.

“Oh really? You’re gonna talk classy after giving Honest Abe the champagne room special?”

Sam ran a hand through his hair, even longer than the last time Dean saw him. “Yeah, I walked into that, didn’t I?” He chuckled. “Look, we were at this party and somehow we ended up at the Memorial…....and I was the tallest, sooo….” He grinned, the kind only Sam could do that was both devilish and sweet. They’d gotten out of so many jams on that smile alone.

“Gabriel?”

“Of course it was Gabriel.” Sam scrunched his brows, chastised. “Sometimes when we get together, I just forget it’s not like it used to be. Nobody was watching all the time, we’d just get kicked outta some place or arrested or something, but now it’s….”

“Now you’re a big time rock star living your life’s dream, that’s so _sad_.”

Sam punched him in the thigh, “Shut up dick, you know what I mean.”

They were quiet a long while, long enough that Dean scooted over so Sam could stretch out along the other side, his huge feet almost kicking Dean in the face, just like when they were little and had to share a bed.

“He’s going to cut you loose after this.”

“Gabriel?”

“Crowley,” Sam sighed at the ceiling. “He thinks there’s enough interest in a tour with the original Hunters that he’ll be able to squeeze one last big payday out of it. Then he’s going to leverage that into building a new band for me. He thinks our music’s too old school rock, gonna transition to more mainstream stuff.”

“What, like U2 crap?”

“No Dean, like _Coldplay_.”

“Jesus. You want that Sammy?”

“Well, like you said, lifelong dream, being a big time rock star.” Dean could hear him teasing. “All I’m saying is, I know leaving wasn’t really your choice -”

“Course it was.”

“Ok sure, but, if this is the end of the road for The Hunters, you’ll be free to do something else with your music, you know, if you wanted to get back into it. I’m sorry this is the way it worked out, but it might be good for you. And we’re gonna get one last chance to be out on the road together, just like old times”

“You mean, take The Hunters out in a blaze of glory?” He smirked at the ceiling.

Sam propped himself up on his elbows, another of those charm the devil grins, “I’m so glad you’re back.”

===

The special ops bullshit it took to transfer Sam from the hospital to the hotel was ridiculous, and Dean didn’t like that the juicehead in an earpiece who showed up to play bodyguard kept fucking _staring_ at him with this unreadable look.

When they got there, Charlie was already waiting in their suite.

“Hey bitches!” She squealed, running up to manipulate them into a group hug. “I’m totally crashing in your room tonight, they put me in a _hovel_. There’s not even a welcome bottle of champagne like yours! Which I may have already opened, just so you know. And also drank most of. But I brought beer! And there’s pizza coming so let’s braid Sam’s hair and see which one of us got laid better this year!”

The answer to that question was Sam. It was always Sam, the days where Dean rolled out of a new bed every night were long since over. There were a few, here and there, more than average, he was sure, but nothing nearing his high water mark. But for some reason he didn’t mention those as they sprawled across the plush carpet, eating their weight in pizza and catching up.

For some reason he mentioned Castiel.

===

The bodyguard (whom Dean learned was named Vin, since obviously Charlie had befriended him like he was some sort of kindly giant) was already waiting outside their door when they rolled out the next morning. He was wearing sunglasses in the fluorescent lit hallway, but Dean could still feel the guy staring at him, could feel it as he followed them down the hall.

Thank god the conference room had a breakfast spread, and Dean wasn’t above elbowing his brother out of the way to get at the mini danishes first. Charlie was a wild card though, running start, hip sliding over table and snagging the cherry one before he could get to it. It was anarchy after that, because it didn’t matter how famous or how rich any of them got, at heart they were all still the broke ass kids living out of Dean’s car, turned feral by the proximity of free food.

Bobby showed up next, most of his crew, then Benny and Gabe together, dropping into seats next to the brothers with a huge grin each. Everyone else trickled in, back slapping and catching up. Dean hadn’t seen most of these people in a long time, but now, as the room got louder, fuller, he actually began to feel a bit of excitement. One last trip out on the road with them, his second family.

The last time he’d left, it hadn’t been with a proper goodbye.

“Alright everyone, settle down. And someone get me a bloody coffee.”

Crowley waltzed in wearing his typical black suit with red tie, trailed behind by three terrified assistants. Three was his shock and awe number, which meant today was serious business.  Everyone took seats except for them, standing against the wall behind Crowley’s chair, clutching agendas and cell phones like protective talismans.

“Here’s where we’re at. This tour was already in the works for the winter. Most of you weren’t in the loop yet because each of your contracts states that I don’t need to give a shit about your opinions. But thanks to Sam’s little patriotic stunt, I’ve had to push up the dates significantly. If we wait until the winter, it will feel passe, and investors were already trying to pull out. I have managed to convince the rest that, if they remain, a summer tour will capitalize on this attention while it’s still hot.”

“Whoa, wait,” Dean waved at Crowley. “Summer tour? It fucking _June_ , man.”

“Oh look, it can read a calendar instead of just pose for one. Yes Dean, it’s June. The press conference is tonight, ticket sales will open the bleeding minute Sam’s finished blinking his sorry puppy eyes at America. After that, you’ll have two weeks to rehearse and the first show will be in Atlanta on June 18th.”

“WHAT!” Meg shrieked from the other side of the room. Benny chuckled and Gabriel leaned in with a mischievous grin, whispering something in his ear. She hadn’t managed to kill Crowley yet, it was a life goal of hers and she talked of it often, but who could find the time? Now though, he may have just given her the last bit of motivation.

“You’re all professionals, aren’t you? In a theoretical sense. There’s no new material here, and most of the lighting and stage design have already been finished. You get up there, you play the hits, you move on to the next city and you do it again. Now, there’s one other thing I need to mention. Excelsis Capital is bankrolling the majority of this little venture, in fact, if all goes well, they want to fund more such ventures, which some of you sorry lot might prove useful to. Their pockets are…..very deep, “ Crowley adjusted his tie, looking more than a little aroused at the thought of someone else’s money. “But they’re a little concerned about the band’s….... _reputation_. So they’re requiring that a representative of their company join us- “

“A spy?!” Meg snarled.

“NARC!” Someone in the back shouted. Probably Ash.

“A _liaison_.” Crowley growled. “As part of the deal to make sure there’s not a repeat of - “

“You attached a morality clause to a band?!” Dean scoffed. He looked over at his brother for support, but the kid just looked mortified. Damn it, knowing his brother, he probably thought this whole thing was his fault. Which, maybe the dates getting bumped sat squarely on his shoulders, but The Hunters _definitely_ had a reputation. Every single member of this band had offered up years of targeted, multi-colored depravity to honor their god of rock.

“Not a morality clause, I’m not so stupid as that. Just an agreement that an agent of their choosing be embedded with the band to act as a kind of moral deterrent.”

Crowley stood then and went to the door, opening it and gesturing for someone to join them.

“Everyone, this is Mr. Novak, from Excelsis Capital.”

“Hello everyone.”

Dean learned what it felt like to choke on his own tongue.

===

“The guy from the plane?”

“Yes!” Dean hissed, doing his best to block Sam’s attempts to get a better look.

“That you’re pretty sure you propositioned with sexual favors in the bathroom?”

“We weren’t in the bathroom, but I may have tried to get him in there? I think there might have been a pantomime involved. It was bad Sammy.”

Dean tugged at his hair and sank deeper into his seat, hiding behind his brother’s mass. It was like he was cursed. At least the room was crowded enough, loud enough, that he could stay mostly unnoticed. Bobby and the crew were already barking at each other over how to divide up the enormous amount of pre-work. Meg remained trapped in the back of the room by two of Crowley’s assistants that needed her to review the travel schedule, but mainly acted as defense in case she got any ideas about strangling the smug little prick holding court at the front. Roadies and PAs mingled about, talking over one another and providing enough cover that Dean could glance between bodies from time to time to sneak a peek at Castiel, still as gorgeous as he remembered.

For some reason Gabriel had rushed the man, hopping up and down, arms flailing, ruffling his already messy hair. Which was….odd, true, but if the guy was going to be coming on tour with them, then he just needed to get used to Gabe.

Sam only laughed, “Oh my god, this is perfect! Where’s Bobby? You’re going in the pot.”

“Fuck you man, you are not putting my name down, did you not just hear what happened? He’s the fun killer, Sammy. All that stuff we love about playing out there on the road? That guy’s here to KKKKKkkkkeeeeehhhh!” Dean pretended to gut his own stomach with a very large knife.

“Yeah but you haven’t been able to stop looking at him since he walked in. I’m going for three weeks or so, whenever we hit the Midwest.”

“Guys!”

“Dean, Gabe’s calling us.” Gabriel waved over the crowd at them, beckoning for them to join him.

“Nope, not happening.”

“Dean, act like an adult for five minutes and- Oh!” He looked over to where Gabe was elbowing his way through the bodies towards them with Castiel in tow, turned his Cheshire smile on his brother. “Nevermind.”

“Hey, guys! I wanted to introduce you to Cassie!”

“It’s Castiel.”

“These handsome bastards are Sam and Dean.”

Being closer, Sam stood up and shook Castiel’s hand, swatting Dean in the shoulder to do the same. Dean stood and moved out from behind his brother, locking eyes for one silent moment with the dark haired man. The way those blue eyes widened, mouth going slack for just the briefest of seconds before it snapped together in professional neutrality told Dean all he needed to know. He wanted so badly to look away, painfully aware of how red his face was getting, but the way Castiel kept staring at him was impossible to break.

“He’s my cousin.”

Once again, Dean made an undignified sound as he own tongue tried to escape down his esophagus.

“WOW!” Sam did the best he could to try to cover his excitement over hearing this news. “It is _so good to meet you_ Castiel! Gabe never mentioned his _cousin_ would be working with us!”

“My firm is family run. They took on this venture solely due to Gabriel’s involvement.” His eyes darted to Dean’s twice, and each time Dean was more than irritated to notice how his heart kicked up.  

“My evil Aunt Nay’s been trying to get her hooks in my life forever,” Gabriel confided, “The only thing she holds dear besides orchestrating power plays against all who lay before her is her hatred of me. So I introduced her to Crowley one time for kicks, just to see who’d come out alive. Who knew they’d hit it off? But at least we’ll get to answer the question ‘what happens when devils make deals with each other’. She’s probably ecstatic at Sam’s shocking behavior- ”

“You were the one that convinced me to do it!”

“- cause it gives her a reason to send her ever virtuous son among the heathens for their betterment. Her good little soldier.”

Castiel pointedly frowned, this obviously wasn’t the first time Gabe had called him that and Dean was horrified by the fact that he’d almost just punched Gabe in the arm for it. He grabbed hold of his own fist just to be sure.

“So you _are_ a narc.”

How long Ash had been hovering there was anyone’s guess, but popping up like a gopher dead center in their group was just the diversion Dean needed. He bolted for the door and didn’t look back.

===

Digging around in his pocket for the key, Dean had to switch the paper cup of coffee between hands. The food in the concierge lounge had been too sorry for even Dean to touch, but coffee was not optional this morning, even it it was about to burn off a few layers of skin. Finally making it into the suite, he was pulled up short by Vin, standing with arms crossed, not so subtly blocking the way.

“Sammy why did you let the guard dog inside? He might get on the furniture and-- _oh come on man_!” Dean shouted once he’d shouldered his way into the other room, covering his eyes with a hand and cringing away. Sam didn’t let the interruption stop him, hips pounding away at the young woman in the hiked up polyester skirt and matching blazer splayed out over the dining table. Her little silver nametag read MIRIAM.

“I was only gone for fifteen minutes!” he hissed.

“I’M! EIGHT! TEEN!” Miriam cheered as Sam held her by the thighs and laid in hard.

“Well, congratulations sweetheart, but we got a shingding downstairs so…” Dean hitched his thumb towards the door but the two of them were too busy grunting into each other’s faces.

“Yeah girl, just squeeze around me like that,”

_Knock knock knock_

“Can you just- you better hope that’s not Benny cause he’ll steal your little friend right off the end of your dick.” Dean made his way over to the door. “And you fucking deserve that dude.”

_Knock knock_

“Sam…......uhmm, Dean? It’s Castiel Novak.”

“You gotta be kidding me.” Dean muttered to himself, spun around in panic to glance at the muscle freak staring mutely at the door and his brother doing pushups into the reception staff, spilling nearly all his coffee on himself in the process. “God- _damnit_! Sam!”

Prodding the two of them apart with the toe of his boot, Dean grabbed a discarded towel as a barrier and herded them into the bathroom like they were errant squirrels

“Miriam, I’m gonna need you to zip it,” he hissed before shutting them in. “And you, you wanna guard something, guard this door.”

There was no time to change, even though his entire shirt front was plastered to him with scalding liquid. He had to get Castiel out of here as quickly as he could.

Hand paused at the door handle. Deep breath.

“Hi Mr. uhhh, Mr. Novak.”

“Hello….Mr. Winchester. Might I have a moment of your time?”

“Sure, why not.” Dean stepped aside and waved the man in. “And Dean’s fine.”

Castiel took a moment to look around the room, pausing when he spotted Vin standing watch over the bathroom, before turning to face Dean. “Well then you’ll have to call me Castiel. Oh dear, what happened?” He looked genuinely concerned as he spied the half soaked shirt clinging to Dean’s torso, there was still a bit of steam visible wafting from his chest. “You should take that off.”

“Nope. No, it’s fine. What can I do for you?”

“Well, I was looking for Sam, actually. He is needed downstairs in thirty minutes and I want to be sure he was properly up to speed on how this works.”

_“Oh Jesus you’re so beautiful!”_

Castiel looked toward the bathroom.

“That’s, uh-- Sam’s here and he’ll be ready, I’ll send him down in FIVE MINUTES.” He shouted at the door.

_“Gonna need ten! Need to be in this! Fucking get IN it!”_

“Is he alright in there?”

“Yup! This is just how he…..preps. Alone. He’s alone in there getting all…..camera ready. Or whatever. He’s good.”

_“Turn around….yeah, there’s that ass…”_

“I see….alright then, I guess I’ll just go.”

He stared at Dean one last time before turning to leave. Dean should let him leave.

“Cas...wait.” Dean touched his arm, then backed off, pulling at the material still plastered to his body. Sincerity could be difficult to pull off with violently erect nipples. “Listen, you’re being really cool about this, acting like I wasn’t the world’s biggest jackass on the plane. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’d let me get away with pretending it never happened, which is really goddamned tempting right now, you have no idea. But I just- I don’t do so good with flying, and I have a really shitty way of coping with anxiety, and then that stewardess was-- and I lied……I am _so sorry_ if I made you uncomfortable, and, really for everything that happened after about the ninety minute mark, because I don’t have a clue and I’m guessing it wasn’t pretty.”

Castiel stayed silent, looking at him, really looking in a way Dean had never experienced before.

The Hunters had played dive bars and fire scarred theatres in bad parts of town, he’d stood before thousands, night after night in stadiums and amphitheatres that made his guitar sound like thunder, had winked at the girls in the tv audience corralled just behind the camera and screaming his name. People knew his name, enough people, sometimes too many. They pulled him in for selfies and grabbed his ass and bought him drinks but none of them had ever looked at him before like there was more than just this corporeal vestige of fame walking among them. Temporary, not  quite human. Snatch and grab and gone. But Cas, Cas was looking at him like all that didn’t exist.

“Thank you, I accept your apology. But I can assure you it wasn’t quite so bad as you may believe.”

There was no hint of a smile there, so Dean wasn’t sure if Cas was screwing with him or not, “Dude, I know for a fact I came on hard, and it’s not like you could leave…”

“True, but I found it quite novel. I’ve never had anyone try to ‘flirt’ with me before. It was an interesting experience.”

_“Look at yourself….that’s how you take a man, that’s how you TAKE- A- MAN!”_

“First off, ignore him. Second, what the hell are you talking about? Do you just...never leave the house?”

How in God’s name did this man, with a knife-cut jaw and lips just begging to be put to proper use not have men and women flinging themselves at him in the street, rending the clothes from their body in offering?

He shrugged, “I am in no way a hermit, if that’s what you’re implying. But I never have the time for sociability, my work keeps me limited to mainly professional interactions. That is why I took this assignment. It was an opportunity to experience new things. Gabriel has been telling me for quite some time now that I need to live. Apparently I haven’t been doing it correctly.”

_“It’s so tight! It’s so TIGHT! Ah- Ah- AH- AH!! Ohmygod!”_

Something that had been attached to the wall in the bathroom was clearly no longer attached.

“He sounds as though he’s in distress.”

“Sam’s just got a….hip thing. Just….DO YOUR STRETCHES SAM!” He called over his shoulder.

Castiel’s phone went off in his pocket, “Excuse me, it appears I’m needed downstairs. Can I trust you’ll bring him down shortly?”

“I got you, Cas.” And he winked, which he almost regretted, considering the whole apology, but it was hard to resist. Especially when that surprised little smile from Castiel, the one thing he _did_ remember quite clearly from the plane, was completely worth it.

===

Standing behind the pipe and drape in the ballroom, Dean huddled with the rest of the band, pretending not to watch Crowley brief Castiel.

“For the next hour, the only two words you know are ‘no comment’. Understand?”

“No comment.”

“See?” Crowley purred. “You’re a natural. Now get rid of this,” He snapped his fingers and the trench coat was removed from Castiel’s shoulders by an assistant. “The last thing we need is for one of those jackals to think Sam’s being watched by a two-bit private eye.”

On the other side of the curtain, Dean could hear Sam talking to the roomful of reporters, photographers, film crew, all packed shoulder to hip amid the jungle of equipment, bored and fidgeting with their phones.

“Hey, what’s your pick?” Charlie poked him, whispering.

“Wha- oh! Crap, what’d you pick?”

“Rehab.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. Any of you guys got girlfriend?”

“Someone special, “ Benny raised a finger. “That includes girlfriend.”

“Shit. Then I pick role model.”

“Hair.” Gabriel said, a little too loud. For a brief moment Dean caught Castiel’s eye before they both looked quickly away. “And word is that Crowley’s sending everyone on ahead early tomorrow, so we have to do the thing tonight. Your place.”

_“Sam! Any truth to the rumors that you are considering rehab?”_

_‘Yeah bitches!’_ Charlie mouthed, punching Dean victoriously in the arm.

===

The brothers had just finished room service when the door hummed then burst open, Gabriel all but cartwheeling inside with Charlie and Benny chasing close behind.

“How did you get a key?”

“Pay up,” Charlie stalked over, hands on hips. Dean pulled out two twenties.

“How do we know you weren’t the one starting those rumors to sweeten your odds?”

“You don’t, the internet’s an ocean of cruel mystery. Now get me a drink.”

Bobby brought the crew along ten minutes later, they tended to travel in a pack. Not long after, the rest filed in, arms laden with bottles and cases and cups. The largest suite in the hotel and it was packed, friends catching up, everyone determined to remedy their sobriety.

“We got the pot up to $220 boy.” Bobby slung an arm around Dean after handing him another beer. “I got five weeks in Albuquerque, so try to hold out for me.”

“Hey!” Sam shouted, “No side deals!”

“I would just like to say, fuck you both. It’s not going to happen.”

“What’s not gon’ happen?” Benny sidled up.

There was a knock on the door. Sam swung it open and beamed. “Well _hey_ Castiel!”

“I- “ He poked his head in hesitantly, “Gabriel instructed me to be here at this time.”

“There’s my coz!” Gabe bounded over and dragged the reluctant man into the room. He looked totally lost, glancing behind him as if prepared to bolt if given the chance. Most of the room went hush the moment he walked in, some glaring, one or two hiding their drinks. Dean could only imagine how out of place Castiel felt among these tattooed, hard living musicians and road dogs. Was hit with the urge to reassure him that they weren’t about to eat him alive.

“Now how we gon’ do the thing if he’s here?” Benny drawled. Gabriel let go of Castiel so he could capture Benny’s face between his hands, smooshing his cheeks.

“Because, you sugar dipped fuck stick, he is the thing, he’s _in_. I’ve been trying to corrupt this angelic cocksucker since we were ankle-biters. Brothers from related mothers and it’s my duty to teach him how to have some goddamned fun for once.”

“But isn’t his whole job to snitch on us to the corporate pigs?” Charlie asked, shrugging at Castiel “No offense to your mom.”

“Ah, my red-headed queen, but how can he do that when I nominate him to be…..THE RV?”

The room erupted in cheers. Gabriel jumped onto the coffee table, trying, failing, to pull Castiel up with him.

“We gather here tonight to prepare our clan for the journey ahead. The trials will be many, some of you will not make it, so we must pass along our wisdom, our ways and customs. I offer this man, this wayward traveler- ”

“Nope!”

Had Dean said that? Shit he’d just said that out loud, and now everyone was looking at him for a follow up.

“It’s just- don’t you think his bosses are gonna notice if we make him the RV? Hell, we know Crowley will.”

“Can someone please explain, I’m afraid I’m not familiar with this term.” Castiel scanned the room anxiously.

“It means Road Virgin, Clarence.” Meg curled a red smile and slunk around him like a cat. The little furrow between Castiel’s brow deepened, and Dean was absolutely sure that he was going to regret every decision he made from here on out.

“I’ll take him.” he blurted, and Jesus everyone was looking at him again, silent. “Me. Just me, so all of you vultures can back off. We’re not gonna risk landing the guy who writes our checks in jail.”

More than a few of the crowd groaned, booed.

“But Dean,” Castiel leaned in as if confiding a great secret. He smelled fantastic, soap and sharp-sweet licorice. “I don’t actually write your checks. It’s the- “

“Cas, it’s just an expression. Come on, let me get you a beer, you can thank me for saving your ass later.”

He led Cas over to the dining table littered with bottles, tossing him a can and snagging one for himself along with a fifth of whiskey before booting two of the younger crew off the couch so he could sit, offering a spot to Castiel.

“But wait!” Charlie yelled from somewhere in the crowd. “There is another!”

The room erupted into cheers again as a skinny, nervous looking young man was paraded around.

Dean chugged his beer, looked over at Castiel sipping politely in his navy suit and twisted blue tie. “Road virgin means you’ve never been on a tour. Plenty of kids do studio work, maybe a show here or there, but a tour is somethin’ else. Lotta crazy stuff happens out there; every time we go out, we pick one to be our good luck charm and then haze the ever loving shit out of them.”

“So by initiating him into your group your aim is to mitigate unexpected situations?”

Dean leaned back against the cushions, noticed they were sitting in the same positions they’d been in on the plane, but without the barrier of armrests or seatbelts. “Are you kidding me? These fuckers are the cause of 98% of any ‘unexpected situations’. That kid’s gonna get a hell of an education or run home crying.”

Around them people were chanting.

“ _RRrrrr-_ V! Alfie! _RRrrrr-_ V! Alfie!”

“Does this mean that you are responsible for _my_ education?”

Dean pulled a hard draught from the liquor he was holding, noticed Castiel watching him intently as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, an unreadable expression on his face.

“That what you want?”

Taking the bottle from Dean, Castiel brought it quickly to his lips and tilted his head back, the long line of his throat rippling tightly as he swallowed. It was mesmerizing, as was the shyly pleased smile Cas gave when he handed it back.

There was something about Castiel that Dean had never encountered before, or possibly it had been too long past to remember. A guilelessness that was intriguing, arousing. Alfie was getting tossed in the deep end head first, but at least he knew which pool he’d picked to swim in.

Castiel though...

Not that long ago, all Dean wanted to do was get them both naked and get them both off. Now? He couldn’t stop himself from imagining what would happen if he unwound that proper accountant binding, dirtied him up, made him one of theirs, made him like it.

“Alright then.”

===

ATLANTA

There was a heatwave in Atlanta wilting the asphalt and emptying the streets when they arrived. The three story house had seen troupes like theirs before. Walls curled with decades of paper, the floors banked uneven, groaning underfoot. The living room was swaddled in crumbling soundproof foam, salvaged couches pushed against the wall. The bedrooms weren’t much better, metal cots with stained mattresses jammed in two of them, the third with more ragged couches and a television chained and bolted to the floor.

Castiel pulled his rolling suitcase behind him up the walk, his coat and jacket folded over his arm, his sleeves rolled to the elbow. From the back of a white truck, Sam unloaded equipment while Benny and Dean hauled it inside. Castiel paused, watching Dean. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. To be honest, Sam and Benny weren’t either, but Castiel couldn’t seem to notice much else when Dean’s chest, sweat shined in the heat, Dean’s well muscled arms, his broad flexing back were right there on display. There was a black, circular tattoo over his heart with some sort of detail he couldn’t make out from where he stood. Looking up, he noticed Castiel and waved, toothy smile bright against his tanned skin.

“What do you need Cas?” Charlie startled him out of his distraction. In her tank top half shirt Castiel noticed she had both arms tattooed in half sleeves, beautifully done spacecrafts twisting between swipes of stars. She wiped sweat from her cheek and tapped a pen on the notepad she was holding.

“I wish to be of use.” He looked over at Dean again, then quickly gave a short glance to Sam and Benny so as not to be caught favoring the man.

Charlie grinned, “I mean what do you want in the house? I’m going shopping, any requests? Just food though, Gabe’s already out buying the booze for tonight.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about me, I have a room at a motel nearby. I’ve only come to help you settle in.”

“Hey Dean!” She yelled across the yard. “Cas is trying to cut out on us tonight!”

Dropping the case he had just hauled up on his shoulder, Dean sauntered up to them, running a hand through his sweat damp hair, making the sneaky little muscles along his ribs jump. Castiel did his best to look anywhere appropriate, but even Dean’s eyes, a warm playful green, seemed dangerous territory.

“Heya Cas, glad you’re here. You can drop your stuff off anywhere upstairs. We don’t usually pick beds, it’s sort of a first one to black out wins kind of deal, but I’ll make sure you’re not stuck on a couch.” He winked. He’d done that before. Castiel had never been winked at, or tried to himself. Certain gestures seemed completely unnatural to him, but Dean made it look easy. He wondered if it was something Dean did to everyone, gregarious, open, a casual flirt.

“My plan was not to stay, I merely thought I might be of assistance before I head to the motel.”

“Nonsense, what do you need clean sheets and privacy for? You’re sticking with me- _with us_.” He corrected. “If you’re gonna be part of the family, this is where you bunk.”

Without waiting for a reply, Dean took Castiel’s suitcase right from his hand, marching up to the house, not bothering to check if he was followed. He knew that he was.

===

“Ok, let’s do _Devil in My Details_ next, then _Don’t Say Yes_.” Sam sat on a paint splattered stool in the center of the room, tipping the mic stand side to side in his hands, the rest of the band fanned out around him.

They’d begun rehearsing the moment everything was set up and plugged in, the few crew members that had been flitting about all morning cutting out shortly afterwards. They’d heard every song a hundred times already and were in for dozens more, but Castiel chose to slip into an unobtrusive chair to listen, enthralled.

It was silliness, wasn’t it? To become enamored of a rock musician? Perhaps enamored was too strong a term at the moment. Intrigued, maybe. The truly amusing part was that his mother had chosen him for this detail, not because of the family ties, not because he was particularly loyal to her, but because he had subsumed so much of himself to the needs of the company that most everyone thought of him as a sexless, emotionless drone.

Except Gabriel.

He spared his cousin a look, spinning his drumsticks, impatient to continue.

For some reason, Gabriel liked to confide in him, liked to call from the road, still panting and flush with adrenaline from the stage, with stories or jokes or descriptions of the cities he’d seen. He’d try to coax Castiel into letting loose, trying something reckless and fun for once, hell a vacation at the very least, but there was never any time and Castiel spent enough time on his own as it was, adventures like that needed to be shared. Gabriel shared them, with Dean and Sam, Benny and Charlie. Castiel knew all their names, knew when they’d played a particularly good night, knew when they’d fought, knew their quirks and stories. But Gabriel had never mentioned that Dean was stunning. Not that it was something he’d expect Gabriel to say.  

Castiel had never seen anyone as attractive as the man sitting next to him in seat 11A. The man he’d nearly knocked over in his thoughtless haste. Polite, charming, even as he was clearly terrified of flying. He considered what might have changed between them if they’d known then they’d be working together.

_“..........Wish I could take you in there right now just to see how good you look when I make you come.”_

_Castiel shifted in his seat, trying his best to hide the evidence of what that statement did you him, even though he was sure that was Dean’s primary intent. A very real part of him, the part he intended to secretly nurture on this trip, the reckless, fun loving side he’d allowed to whither on the vine, wanted to take Dean up on his offer, wanted to land at their destination a new person, a person who did such things and recalled them with happy mischief, like Gabriel. But Dean was clearly intoxicated, and as tempting as he was, Castiel still would never be one to take advantage._

_The plane jostled hard._

_“M’sorry Cas.”_

_“What?”_

_“I really hate flyin’ and you’re just so….. You should’a slapped me, I’m such an asshole for sayin’- Yer nice an’ you have eyes and - “ The plane jostled again and Dean pressed back into his seat, eyes squeezed shut for a beat before turning back to Castiel. They were glassy and wide, fear polished oddly by the alcohol for a second before they softened and he breathed out a whisper. “...like an angel.”_

===

Two weeks of rehearsals flew by seamlessly. The heatwave continued, and with the house outfitted in mostly functional air conditioning and premium cable, there was no reason to leave.

For the brothers and their friends, this had been their first band, and the success they’d achieved, after so many years of grinding it out, meant that each of them thought of this as coming home. It had been a long time since they’d played together, but slicing through that first song, the second, the eighth, everything fell into place. Better than before. They had experience now, their talent wasn’t only raw and hungry, it was well worn.

Every chord had them grinning at each other, giddy when the sound would swell outwards, each of them in tune with the others, connected, building, clear. Castiel sat through all of it, note for note. Dean tried not to watch him too much, but it was difficult. Sitting primly on the shredded floral upholstery of what had become ‘his’ chair, neatly pressed slacks, button down shirt, tie. But he’d taken to rolling up his sleeves, undoing the top button, loosening the tie. First time Dean had seen it, he’d lifted an amused brow and called it ‘progress’ and Castiel smiled at him so innocently, that embarrassed, hopeful, awe-tinted smile that Dean was beginning to suspect was only for him.

If Sam hadn't been in the room, he might just have backed Cas up and kissed him.

But he didn’t. He shouldn’t, he knew that. And it wasn’t just that Castiel’s firm was bankrolling this little party. It was because as far as the crew, and hell, most of their fans knew, fucking the staff was what broke up the band last time. Sam knew the truth, Charlie had figured it out on her own, Benny and Gabe had some pretty dead on suspicions so they never gave him shit. But starting something now, something that could go very wrong and mess things up for the rest of his family, again, was something he didn’t think he should risk.

Days ticked down to minutes, to countable seconds when they were together, apart. In, out. Moving through rooms, or trapped in rehearsal, Dean’s tide pulled with the presence of Castiel. It became a struggle to remember the reasons he’d given himself to hold back. Reasons….or excuses.

Day in, day out.

Each morning Castiel was right there, waking in the squeaky cot next to his own. Clicking down the halls in his dress shoes, asking strange, endearing questions. Returning Dean’s attention.

Dean’s resolve grew hazy at the edges.

They danced around one another, little touches, long looks. From the first day, Castiel radiated guilt that his primary function was to stand around and watch, so he found jobs for himself. He organized the equipment, tie slung over his shoulder, neatening the tangled nests of electrical wires, cooked for them; he was actually very deft at cooking for a large crowd and Sam was irritatingly thrilled to find out that Castiel was the only one that could convince Dean they should have healthier options alongside the burgers and ribs and steak he insisted on.

After dinner, whoever was around would crowd the upstairs room and watch movies, and the two of them always found a way to sit close, trying not to touch but seeking it all the same.

Most late nights, they found their way out back, sitting in lounge chairs, relishing the gentled air, the fireflies, the sounds of Gabriel tearing through the house laughing. Dean played guitar under the stars while Castiel told him about the constellations.

One afternoon Castiel didn’t show at rehearsal, and Dean missed the same cue three times and caught a drumstick in the head. He found Cas in the kitchen afterwards, clothes ruined with flour, a purple slash across his cheek, presenting a blueberry pie. Sam had walked into the kitchen at that moment and walked right back out, and Dean was sure that his brother kept the others from disturbing them.

It was a terrible pie. The filling ran out when Cas cut it and got all over the counter, the crust took real effort to chew, but Dean ate every bite and asked for seconds. Later that night Benny cornered him, eyes crinkled with amusement.

“You in trouble now boy.”

 

The final tech rehearsal at Chastain Park Amphitheatre, all four hours of it, had gone off with only minor halts for adjustment. The lights were insane and perfectly synced with each song. For once Charlie didn’t complain that her bass was getting drown out by Gabriel’s drumming. Even the piano Benny used for a few of the slower songs was in tune, which almost never happened.

Chuck’s voice boomed through the sound system, “Looks like we’re all set guys.”

“That’s it?” Gabriel asked.

“As long as you don’t fuck it up tomorrow it is!” Meg shouted from the front row. It wasn’t completely clear if she was yelling at Gabe or the person on the other end of her phone. “Alright everyone, I don’t care what any of you get into tonight, call tomorrow is six pm!”

It was a given the whole family would end up at the rental. Two hours later, the backyard was comfortably full, Bobby working the grill, keeping a steady stream of food going. Coolers were set up all over the lawn and some instruments had been clustered together in a makeshift stage, Castiel watched as one after another of the group got up to play, Meg taking a break in between her main duty as tour manager, which appeared to be cursing at the pages of a battle worn three ring binder, to serenade them with a particularly thrilling version of _Sinnerman_. Someone had set up a keyboard, and Benny, already an accomplished rhythm guitarist, showed them he may have missed his calling playing  jazz. Meg howled and Benny painted chaos with Gabriel chasing them fast on his drums.

“You want a turn Cas?”

Dean slipped in beside him. Castiel watched him take a long pull from his beer before looking quickly back at the stage.

“They’re all so talented.”

“Yeah they are.” There was a great deal of affection in it, and Castiel felt a thin pang of regret.

“I’ve come to realize you probably know him better than I do- Gabriel. I knew he was in a band, I knew he was successful, I just didn’t know he could _play_. Isn’t that an odd thing?”

“What the hell do I know about odd, have you met some of these freaks?” He laughed. “But I think he’s glad you’re here. He kept yelling about someone named Cassie but we all thought it was a girl of his he had coming down.”

“And he has mentioned you as well, but up till now I was under the impression your name was Deano. And also that your brother suffered from giantism.”

That got a full bodied laugh from Dean, and Castiel, never considered one to make people laugh before, wondered if he might be able to make him do it again. It was a decidedly exhilarating feeling.

“Tonight, our young Padawan begins his training!” Charlie shouted from the middle of the yard, a hand on Alfie’s shoulder as the music died down.

“Come on,” Dean grabbed Castiel by the arm and weaved in closer. “Fun’s starting.”

A table and two folding chairs were dragged into the center, Alfie pushed down, held down by both shoulders.

“Alfie, in order to be named among these honored roadies as a brother, you must prove yourself in the four sacred pillars of our kind. Drinking, Destruction, Dicking and Defense!”

Everyone howled and cheered.

Two bottles of vodka were laid on the table, along with two shot glasses. From the other side of the yard, Bobby strolled over and dropped down in the opposite chair, turning his hat backwards.

“You have thirty minutes. Match Bobby shot for shot. The only goal is to remain standing the rest of the night.”

Bobby poured and Alfie scrambled to follow, the two of them tossing back at the same time.

“Hey Deano,” Gabriel wedged himself between them, slinging his arms around their shoulders. “Aren’t you gonna school _your_ RV? Cassie here needs to learn how to handle his liquor just like the rest of us.”

“I’m not getting shitfaced on the first night.”

“I don’t mean against you, I mean against Bobby!”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Castiel demurred, as if declining an invitation to tag along at dinner.

“You don’t have to.” Dean countered.

“Come on coz, have a little fun,” Castiel shrugged, then nodded. “We’ve got another one!” Gabriel shouted, to an echo of cheers. Before Dean could blink, someone dragged a third chair into place.

“Wait, hang on a sec,” Dean tried to stop Cas, but he was already getting swept into the fray. Gabe shoved Cas into his seat and Sam thunked another shot glass in front of him.

“Alright narc, it was good knowing ya,” Sam laughed.

Bobby poured another shot and tossed it back, raising a challenging eyebrow at Castiel. “That was five.”

Alfie hurried to finish his own. Castiel watched him, then poured five shots, one after the other, swallowing each with stunning ease.

“Vashe zdorovie.” He saluted.

“Well shit.” Dean huffed.

Gabriel slapped him on the back and winked.

===

“Does this count?” Charlie whispered.

Dean grunted and shoved at the thing jammed against his ribs.

“Nope.” Sam didn’t try to keep his voice down. “Looks like you’re out.”

Stretching, annoyed at his brother for waking him when he was so, so very hung over, Dean’s hand ran over the warm flat plane of a very toned stomach.

He opened his eyes.

“Cas, why are you in my bed?”

Sleepy blue eyes blinked slowly open, staring at Dean, scowling. “This is my bed.”

If Sam and Charlie weren’t standing right there, smiling down at them as if they were two children on Christmas morning, Dean would be tempted to see if he could tease away Cas’ morning frown.

“Yeah, well, no big deal. Happens all the time.” Dean shrugged, a little difficult with one arm trapped under Cas.

Cas who was clad only in a pair of huge white boxers.

“Hey Charlie, you ever fall asleep in someone’s bed you weren’t trying to score with?”

“Why no Sam, can’t say that I have.”

“You hear something Cas?” Dean snarked, untangling his legs from Castiel’s. At least he was still wearing his jeans. It helped to hide just how interested his body was in pressing bare skin against Cas’ lean, warm body. He angled his hips away as subtly as he could.

“It’s Charlie and your brother Sam. They are speaking about us sarcastically.”

“Thanks man.” He rolled his eyes, but that hurt. Sitting up hurt. Breathing. “What the hell happened last night?”

“Are you kidding me?” Sam slapped Dean on the back just to hear him groan. “Cas here is a machine! He drank Bobby under! Who the fuck has ever done that?”

“It was sort of amazing.” Charlie nodded.

“Well what the hell was I doing?”

“You were screaming encouraging obscenities at me.” Cas deadpanned. “Then towards the end I recall you ascending a table and singing something about a final countdown.”

“The Final Countdown.”

“Yes, that’s the one. Your guitar work was very energetic.” Castiel smiled. Charlie elbowed Sam in the ribs.

“We’re gonna go to a diner if you guys want to come with,” he edged towards the door. “It’s Jonestown out there, so the kitchen’s out.”

“Alright, we’ll be down in a few.”

The two of them left, and Dean shuffled over to his duffle bag, scrounging up a tshirt, adjusting himself discreetly. When he turned back, Castiel was wandering the room, confused.

“You ok man? How are you not in a fetal position right now?”

“Hmm? Oh, alcohol doesn’t have much effect on me. Have you seen my suitcase? All my clothing appears to be missing.”

“I’m sure it’s around here,” he hesitated. “You could- uhh- you could borrow something of mine if you want.”

It was completely absurd how much dressing Cas in his Slayer tshirt and a pair of too large jeans excited him, he was almost tempted to tell Cas to turn around for him so he could get a good look. Jesus, this was some real high school girl bullshit that he needed to beat down with a shovel. Castiel thanked him gratefully, and Dean bit his lip to keep from embarrassing himself.

_No, thank you._

Castiel stole a pair of scuffed black boots from Gabriel. In the bathroom, they brushed their teeth side by side and tried not to stare at one another in the mirror. Castiel seemed pleased with his new outfit, pulled at the hem and smiled around the toothbrush in his mouth. Neither of them even noticed Alfie, asleep in the bathtub, until they went to leave.

“I don’t remember him having a mustache.” Castiel squinted down at the unfortunate spray of limbs packed into the tiny clawfoot bath.

“I think it’s permanent marker.”

Arched around Alfie’s lips in an artistic handlebar were the words COCK HOLE.

“So next lesson of living with the band, don’t be the first one to pass out.”

“I will remember.”

===

“He’s cute, Dean.” Charlie perched herself on the front end of the shopping cart, leaning over the basket, grinning at him.

He looked over to where his brother and Castiel were locked in a dilemma over which bright green vegetable would cause Dean the most suffering. “Yup, Sam’s cute as a button.”

She smacked him on the side of the head, so he shoved the cart hard, trying to shake her off. It didn’t work.

“Don’t be a dumbass. Or maybe you _are_ a dumbass and you haven’t made it to the acceptance stage yet. We can get you help, Dean.”

Castiel hurried up to them in earnest,  “Dean, what is your stance on broccoli rabe?”

“That it should be made out of onion rings.”

“I see….” he made his way back to Sam, the little wrinkle between his brows a sign he was giving Dean’s words serious consideration. It was impossible to keep from smiling watching it, but Dean dropped it quick when he turned back to Charlie, catching her expression.

“He actually kind of fits in, in like, a really awkward way. We like him.”

“Are you trying to….what, give me your blessing? Cause I don’t really need your blessing.”

“Yes you do, you know you do. You’re worried about what everyone will think if you start something with him.”

“Can we not do this here?”

“Fine. _Your brother’s taking me to buy tampons!_ ” Charlie screamed at the top of her lungs. Sam turned red and hunched down, waving at her to get out of there. For all the women he’d slept with, it was still remarkably easy to ruffle his sensibilities when it came to certain aspects of female biology. “There. Now roll me into the next aisle.”

“We like him.” She repeated when they were safely surrounded by feminine products, letting her statement sit between them as she tipped boxes into their cart.

“I have a shitty track record.” He grumbled.

“No, you have shitty luck. Lisa fucked you over, dude, we all _know_ that. And She-who-will-not-be-named wasn’t your fault, no matter what Crowley says. All’s I’m sayin’ is Cas is sweet, and he totally disarms your pouty, aggro guitarist shtick, and he _likes you_.”

He let those words roll over in his head, silent. There were people he’d known longer, but Charlie had always been his sounding board, sometimes even more than Sam. Because while his brother always tried to bulldoze through the architecture of what was dubbed Dean Winchester’s emotional tone deafness, Charlie took it into consideration, gently reminding him of how other people work, whereas Sam would grow huffy and impatient because, in his opinion, Dean should just know better.

“Come on,” she pounded the side of the cart. “Let’s go see if they’ve got magazines with Sam’s face on it and hide them in the cart before he checks out!”

He loved that she never really needed a resolution from him, he wasn’t sure he had one, but the little ache that had been following him for weeks eased some. He ran, pushing the cart, hopping on so the two of them could fly down the aisle for a few giddy seconds before crashing into the cereal display.

===

Look at all of them.

Writhing black waves of bodies, colored pools of light gliding across the surface to illuminate sweat slicked faces, a reef of millions of fingers stretching, reaching. Screams, all pitches, all ages, desperate to join, give themselves over and bleed together so that they could say they were there. The music resounding out and out and back, too much to hear. Castiel stood in the wings, watching, trying to catch the lyrics he mostly knew by now. The beat alone was solid against the thrashing adulation of this mass, Gabriel perched high on his drum platform, one of Castiel’s blue ties wrapped around his head like a bandana. At least he knew who was behind the disappearance of his clothes.

Sam wailed, writhed, spun across the stage and the people screamed harder for it. He was very good at this, Castiel thought, he had an incredible voice, a magnetic presence. But even so, he couldn’t stop glancing over at Dean, fingers a blur on his guitar, bringing the crowd to a frenzy with his skill. He wasn’t quite as showy as Sam, his voice wasn’t as soaring. A plain, male voice, artless and assured. Castiel found he preferred it.

The song ended, the lights changed. Alfie and another roadie pushed the piano into place. Blurry ink moustache still visible from here, he looked ready to drop dead on his feet, but he moved efficiently. Benny set aside his guitar and took his place at the keys, and Sam began to groan sensuously into the mic about the torture of resisting desire.

Castiel tugged at the hem of his shirt. Dean’s shirt. He was wearing Dean’s clothes, and it was such a minor thing, but it somehow felt wild and daring. He liked it very much.

He liked it even more when Dean turned onstage, found Castiel and caught his eye, held it for the rest of the song.

===

“I didn’t know it was going to be so big.” Castiel gasped, awestruck.

“Everyone says that the first time they see it,” Dean sighed with a self satisfied kind of amusement.

“Don’t be intimidated, Cas,” Sam came up on his other side and nudged his hip into Castiel. “This isn’t Dean’s first time, he’ll take care of you.”

The brothers grinned at each other over Cas’ head and Charlie rolled her eyes.

“For Christ’s sake just high five and get it over with,” She adjusted her bag, hiking up the stairs of the first bus. “Come on narc.”

“I- this isn’t- Bobby said this bus was for the band, that crew rides in one of the other two.” He shifted on his feet, eyeing the row of enormous tour buses with uncertainty. They were all about the same, though this one looked slightly newer, with the bent wire script of the band’s name detailed across both sides.

“Brother, you go on dem crew buses, Meg’s gonna eat you ‘live. Why you think she’d rather be slummin’ back there? Got five new guys she ain’t broke yet an’ a whole mess of weed. Church won’t fix you if you stay back there, best stick with us.”

And Benny didn’t broker much argument, slung and arm around Cas and shunted him through the door and up the stairs so the man was unable to see the slight tip of his hat Benny directed at Dean.

Inside was grander than anything Castiel could imagine. Lacquered walls trimmed with muted lights, darkly tinted windows, the front end was a living space. A half circle booth with retractable table sat across from a long, low couch, both in plush cream leather. There was a small galley beside that including a full sized fridge. Several televisions hung from the ceiling and against the far wall was a panel of indecipherable buttons alive with blinking green and red lights. An accordion door opened to a tiny bathroom and the rows of bunks, six by two. Beyond that was a small lounge with a U shaped pit of black leather seating, a dainty wet bar and red velvet drapes.

By the time Castiel had taken it all in, the rest of the group had trampled one another in the rush to choose a bunk.

“I told you I don’t like to be on the ground! People hit me when they go by.” Gabriel defended his claim by climbing it like a monkey.

“They hit you cause you’re a dick and you probably did some shit to deserve it. I’m twice your size, I can’t crouch down like that!” Sam tried to forcibly pull Gabe down, but Castiel happened to know that his cousin could be deceptively strong when motivated. Charlie and Benny had already come to a peaceable agreement about their bunks, so all that was left were the two farthest back by the lounge.

“You uhh...mind if I take the top?” Dean couldn’t quite look Cas in the eye without an excited flush climbing his cheeks. Castiel felt his own skin answer in kind.

“Dean is _such_ a top.” Gabriel interjected from his newly won perch. Sam choked on his own laugh and nearly dropped his suitcase on Benny’s head.

“You can take any bed you like.” It took a moment for him to realize why Charlie giggled. “I mean, I don’t mind being beneath- “ he caught himself. “I’ll be perfectly happy on the bottom.”

“Son, you just makin’ this too easy.”

“Shut up Benny.” Dean tossed a pillow at his head. “Ignore them, they’re all twelve years old. Come on, they got pulled pork sandwiches across the street. Let’s go grab a few before we leave and not share with anyone.”

===

NEW YORK

“Hello mother…...Yes, you’re right, I apologize. Hello Mrs. Novak.”

Dean stopped, he’d been about go into the back lounge of the bus to see if Cas wanted anything from the rest stop. He should give the man some privacy.

“So far everything has gone very smoothly. The shows have all been sold out and I’ve heard they have received very favorable reviews……….Yes…..No I- not so far no………...I really don’t think you need to worry about that, they all seem like good people. They- …….alright…….I understand.”

“Hi.” Dean offered when Castiel found him lurking in the front lounge. “Sorry, I wasn’t trying eavesdrop, just wanted to see if you were hungry.”

Castiel sighed himself into the deep leather sofa and after a moment, Dean joined him.

“She wants me to give her a full report on each of you. Your behaviors, how much you drink, if you’re prone to using bad language in public, if you’re…” he looked over at Dean. “If you’re fornicating.”

“She does realize we’re The Hunters and not The Carpenters, right?”

That low frequency laugh climbed Dean’s vertebrae like a ladder. “I’m not sure that she does. I should feel bad that I don’t intend to do any such thing. It means I’m being paid by my company to do no more than travel and party.”

“Sound like a good life to me. This is rock n’ roll Cas, you gotta say ‘fuck the man’!”

“Fuck the man.”

“No, not like you’re reading an instruction manual.”

“Fuck _thee_ man.”

“Jesus that’s worse.”

“Fuck men.”

“Now it’s just getting away from you. How ‘bout this, tonight there’s gonna be a party backstage after the show. New York is always insane, I’m gonna need you to help me out running a little interference. If you’re up for it.”

===

“Alright, here’s the drill.” Meg sat atop a speaker, clipboard in hand. “First night New York, you know what that means. I got a stack of passes and a sponsored bar. Alphie!”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Tonight you’re gonna earn your second D. Here’s the grocery list. I want to see 8s to 10s only in _volume_. Some americana girls for Sam,” she pointed down the list. “Alt chicks for Charlie and….Gabe what are you into tonight?”

“Big fake titties!”

“Some big fake tittes for Gabe. And I want at _least_ three well built college boys who look like they’re secretly curious about butt stuff, for me.”

“Ooh, I want one of those too!” Gabriel shouted.

“Is this normal?” Castiel whispered to Dean.

“For New York it is. You’ll see, they’re fucking aggressive here. If any part of that boy’s a virgin now, it won’t be come sunrise.” He nodded in Alphie’s direction.

“Dean?” Meg interrupted. “What about you?”

“Oh, no I’m- I’m good.” He almost completely succeeded in not looking sideways at Cas.

“I bet you are.” She smirked. “Benny, you got dressing room C.”

===

The venue was much larger than anywhere they’d been so far, nicer too. Backstage was an actual lounge with dim lighting, scattered seating and a bar running full tilt.  The place was more than half filled with people before the band had even finished playing, and Castiel noted that it was mostly women. Gorgeous, scantily clad women roaming like wild jaguars, eyeing him up and down to see where he fit on the food chain. Some of the crew popped in now and again, dropping off people they’d netted out front before heading out for more.

“Are you with the band?” A petite  thing with enormous false eyelashes bounced in front of him.

“I’m a lawyer.” Castiel hedged, suddenly wary about admitting too much to someone so unsettlingly eager.

“You don’t look like a lawyer. Do you know Sam? Is he coming soon?”

“Beat it pee-wee.” A much taller woman shooed the girl away with her deadly looking manicure. With meticulously coiffed red hair and a well tailored vintage dress, she looked overly polished for an event like this. “You’ll never escape if they think you know him.”

“They?”

“The Sam Girls. I’m Abby,” She offered her hand. “Care to buy me a drink?”

“I believe they are free.”

“Good, then you can buy me two. I’m bored.”

“You’re not excited to meet the band?” He asked, flagging down the bartender.

“You are new, aren’t you? I’m here to see Benny.”

“Are you friends with him?”

She laughed and plucked a maraschino cherry from bar tray with the tips of her nails. “Everyone who knows better is friends with Benny.”

Just then, the band entered, and while the group didn’t cheer or scream outright, a palpable excitement rippled through the crowd.

Castiel watched as an attractive young woman and her, frankly stunning, male companion hurried over to Dean, surrounding him with sly smiles. They took turns draping themselves over each other in a clear invitation. Castiel found his throat tightening, turned back to his drink.

“Oooh, the brother.” Abby purred. “He is a pretty one. You’re in luck, he likes both.” It was said to make him feel better, he supposed, but it only made Castiel look at the many beautiful men and women around the room and realize the competition had officially doubled.

No, there was no competition. Dean could do as he pleased.

A large hand dropped on his shoulder. “Heya Cas. Who’s this?” Castiel looked up at Dean in time to catch the tail end of the strange look he gave Abby.

“I was just leaving. Nice to meet you Castiel.”

Dean slid into her seat at the bar next to Cas, leaning over the counter in the next moment to snag one of the bottle from the well for himself along with a glass.

“Ok hotshot, I know I can’t out drink you, so I’m gonna need you to be my guardian angel tonight.”

“Certainly, what is it you require?”

“Protection.”

Low thumping music pulsed from hidden speakers. The lights dimmed further, voices got louder. People were dancing everywhere there was a foot of space. Holding court at various banquettes, Castiel watched the other members of the band do their best to keep their heads afloat amid the pool of determined fans. Sam’s group were clearly the loudest, giggling as if their very lives depended on the tenor of their humor. Gabriel kneeled at a table, a cluster of practically naked women swaying their breasts about his face like ripe fruit while a lithe young man in mesh and leather built neat little white lines for Gabriel to destroy. Castiel looked the other way.

Dean commandeered a booth in the back, pulling Castiel in after him and insisting they pass the bottle. It was nice, the cocoon of music and darkness, the gentle slosh of tequila passing hands, Dean talking about the show as he raised the bottle to Castiel’s lips, held it for him while he watched the amber liquid sluice down his throat.

A piercing squeal cut across the room. Castiel looked over to where Benny had hoisted a buxom woman onto his shoulder, kissing another one deeply before disappearing into a dressing room with his companion.

Dean chuckled, “Hope Alphie stocked some gatorade and protein bars in there.” Castiel looked at him questioningly. “Our boy Benny’s all sweet southern charm in the daylight, but nights like this, that guy’s an animal. We call him the Tramp Vamp. Just drains them dry, one after another. The man’s not human. See, everybody wants Sam, and he likes the attention, but he tends to pick one girl and stick with her for the night. Hotel, breakfast, single rose, whole deal. Benny though, he attracts the ones with a taste for a real _experience_ , strap in and see how long you can hold on.”

A trio of ecstatic girls rushed over, praising Dean, the band, the show, life in general. One of them flirted shyly, while her friends were clearly just thrilled to be backstage. Dean thanked them graciously, signed autographs, let them crowd around him for a photo. He teased them, made them laugh, made them blush, waved goodbye as they left.

“That was sweet.”

“They were sweet.” Dean agreed.

A very stylish man with a rather impressive beard strolled by their table, arching a questing brow at Dean, who shook his head. Castiel watched him make his way over to the bar.

More people approached, this time with far less subtlety about their specific goals. The table began to clutter with hotel key cards, phone numbers, drugs, but Dean waved them all away returning his attention to Cas.

“You’re bi.” Castiel noted how blunt that sounded. “I mean…that was too forward, I’m sorry.”

“S’ok Cas, won’t be sure unless you ask, right? So yeah. Need my guardian angel to protect me from both sides.” He nudged Castiel’s side with an impish smile. God, Castiel had no defenses against that smile. He hurried to take another drink. It didn’t help.

The woman left Benny’s dressing room, dress askew, lipstick smeared. She winked at the girl Alphie shuttled in next.

“Can I put my arm around you? Would that be ok?”

“Yes.” Castiel swallowed hard. “Yes, if you think it will help....deflect interest.”

“Gotta try, right?”

Carefully, as if afraid Castiel might bolt, Dean arched his arm over and draped it along Castiel’s shoulders, who sat there, completely stiff, panicking internally.

This was just for show, he reminded himself, just a front to ward off unwanted attention. He shouldn’t enjoy this too much, he shouldn’t lean into the warm weight of Dean’s arm, or the heady scent of his skin, or the teasing press of thighs as the seat cushion sagged, fitting them closer together.

“You ok? Is this too weird?”

“No, no it’s fine.” More than fine. Frustrating actually. Castiel tried to will his body to relax. “I- I just don’t see why you’d want to stay here, with me. This party seems very…..spirited. You don’t still think I’m going to report you to the firm do you? You should feel free to enjoy yourself.”

“I am enjoying myself, Cas. With you.” _Another_ exhausted looking woman spilled out of Benny’s dressing room, holding her shoes. Alphie rounded up a devious looking group of three and ushered them in. “Tell you a secret, I mostly come to these for Sam. He had a little problem a while back with some of the hard stuff. It’s not that I think he’ll relapse necessarily, just that I know he’d never risk thinking about it if I’m around. Guess I’m like, the Castiel Novak of Sam’s life.” He grinned.

“But he’s an adult, surely he doesn’t need you to watch him all the time.”

“Now you sound like Sam.” He took another swig. “But you’re right, and I do try to let go, but it’s kinda hard. I raised that kid, Cas, held us together by my fingernails. When he got in trouble, it broke my fucking heart, felt like I’d failed him. We got an understanding now, I let him do his thing without input, and he ignores my occasional need to watch over him.”

“Hi, sorry to bother you, but I’m _such_ a fan. Are you looking for a third?” The pretty thing was already crawling into the booth with them, hands reaching.

“Sorry shortstack, got kind of a private conversation going right now.” Dean tried to hide how annoyed he was at the interruption.

She pouted, holding her ground, and Castiel felt a slash of bright jealousy, unconsciously clutched a fistfull of Dean’s shirt and scowled.

“Why don’t you go see what the rest of the gang is up to?” Dean tried, tucking Castiel a little tighter into his side.

“Ugh! Your brother is getting monopolized by some _whore_ and there’s, like, a _line_ to see Benny.”

“It’s a fast moving line.” Castiel growled. She ignored him.

“And the drummer guy is weird and I didn’t come back here to get stuck with the _dyke_.”

Castiel felt Dean turn to iron beside him. A truly dangerous cloud slanted his features and Castiel began to wonder at the magnitude of this girl’s stupidity when she inched in closer, one leg sliding over Dean in a bid for his lap.

It was the last straw. Dean shoved his way up, knocking the girl backwards out of the booth and onto her ass.

“Get out of here and give me your fucking pass, you’re banned!”

“What?! You dickhead!” She screamed, flailing to her feet. None of the people dancing around them had stopped, but most of them watched, drunk and amused, while they continued to grind against each other. “You can’t ban me you _faggot_ ! You and your little _faggot_ friend! I _paid_ for this!” She flashed a gold laminated badge in his face as she screeched. He plucked it from her fingers and threw it clear across the room to the delighted hooting of the crowd.

The bottle found her hand before Cas was out of his seat. She threw it wildly at Dean, cracking him in the skull with a dull thunk, liquid spraying everywhere. A trickle of blood snaked down from his hairline, he touched it then looked at his reddened fingers, stunned.

“That was a mistake.” Castiel snarled, deadly low. She hauled off to slap him as he charged up, but Castiel gracefully dodged, snatched her arm, spun her around and pinned it up against her back. Her feet barely touched the ground as he propelled her across the room, down the hall and toward the first exit he could find. He jammed his hip into the push bar, using her body to open the door before shoving her out into an alleyway. It felt very good to haul the door shut on the sound of her bigoted cursing.

He hurried back to the lounge. The crowd seemed bigger, wilder, it took forever to shove his way back to the booth, and when he got there, Dean was nowhere to be seen. Instead, four women had Alphie pinned down to the table, half naked, taking turns doing body shots from his stomach while he screamed and thrashed, much too ticklish to handle the game.

He tried to ask some of the crew if they had seen Dean, but it was too loud, or they were too drunk, to hear him. Wandering the corridors, Castiel eventually found himself backstage. Some of the stage lights were still up, the gaping silence of the empty theatre calling to him, filling his head. Such a stark contrast to the clamor of the party.

Just then there was music, simple bluesy acoustic coming from somewhere out front.

Dean sat on the lip of the stage, feet dangling over the edge, picking out a tune. Castiel moved out from the wings, marveling at the vast cavern of the theatre open before him. It was somehow more intimidating than when it was full. The music paused and Dean flopped on his back, looking at him upside down, the whole right side of his face streaked in blood.

“Heya Cas.”

“Let me see,” Hurrying over, Castiel knelt beside Dean, turning his face in his hands. “I think there’s a first aid kit in the bus, come on.”

“I’m fine,” the feeble attempt to swat Castiel’s hands away didn’t last long, in fact, he kept smiling all the way down the hall, looking down repeatedly to where his hand was clasped firmly in Castiel’s.

“You were pretty badass back there,” Dean laughed as Castiel unlocked the main bus, dragged him inside.

“She was an awful person.”

“Yeah, well, you get all kinds. Mostly people are cool, but you always get one or two crazies.”

Taking a seat in the back lounge, Dean watched Cas rummage through the drawers. “Where did you get those pants?”

“Oh,” Castiel straightened and looked down at the very tight black jeans he was wearing. “They actually belong to Charlie. Don’t laugh!” Dean laughed anyway. “Yours don’t fit me and I believe this was some sort of restitution. I caught her wearing my shirt as a dress yesterday. I know Benny’s been wearing a jacket of mine, and Chuck has turned one of my pairs of slacks into some very disturbing cut off shorts. My belief is that Gabriel has been using my stolen clothing as some sort of prison currency.”

He ran a towel under the faucet and brought it over, turning Dean’s face to wipe away the blood. At least the cut was no longer bleeding. He prodded at the skin, leaning in close for a better look. It didn’t look like it needed stitches. He hurried to get it bandaged up.

“You’re still wearing one of my shirts.” Dean hummed, hooking a finger into the collar that was just low enough to show off a hint of collarbone, the dip in his throat. “That chick got it all wet, though. You’re soaking”

“You can- “ Cas forgot what the next step was. He looked down at Dean, then the bandage in his hands. “You can have it back if you want. I’ll wash it.”

“No, I like it.”

He ran a thumb down the tequila wet fabric of Castiel’s shirt, catching the man’s peaked nipple, bringing the digit to his mouth and sucking on the pad.

“Maybe you have a concussion.” Castiel blurted stupidly. There was no room in his reality for a man this hot to be touching him like this.

“Actually, I do feel a little strange. Maybe I need to stay awake all night, just to be sure.”

“Do you feel dizzy?” He turned Dean’s face in his hands to examine his pupils. “You don’t seem disoriented-”

“Cas.” Dean cut him off, taking his wrists and moving their hands to his lap. “I don’t have a concussion.”

They were so close now, too close to do anything more than fixate on the negative space, feel the tension ready to snap. Dean leaned in closer, Castiel lost himself in the spangle of freckles, the mesmerizing green of his eyes.

“Ok, I’ll try it without the innuendo. I’ve been trying to keep myself in check, Cas, but I’m failing. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do, every single day, since we met.” Dean rose up, planting a knee on the other side of Cas’ thigh, his body a long, sleek line driving Castiel back against the seat without even touching him, his mouth lush and playfully curling, almost, almost there…

“What’s that?” Cas groaned, the edges of their lips brushing as he spoke and it shot aching bliss down his belly. Dean pulled back slightly, face stormy, eyes dark. He was done teasing.

 

“This,” he breathed into Castiel’s mouth as his lips pressed down hard for one brief moment, only enough to register the rightness of it, feel the hunger bank high and hard before he pulled away. He had to be sure Cas wanted this too, that he hadn’t been reading this thing all wrong. The surprise, the brush of panic along his features almost crushed Dean, but then those lips were on him again, frantic, alive. Castiel surged up, tongue sweeping over Dean’s lips and twisting in, darting back, plunging in deeper, velvet slick sweet.

Arching his back, grinding down against Cas’ hips, Dean fucked his tongue in at the same rhythm, scarcely holding onto control, losing it completely when he heard the way Castiel responded, his low gravel growl hitched on the exhale like he was coming undone.

“I need to take you apart, Cas, every piece. I have to know what makes you come.”

Hands shaking, desperate - _vicious_ \- desire scorched through the last of his resolve. Dean sat back, shoved the fabric of Cas’ shirt up high and dove in to cover one tight bud with his mouth, sucking hard, holding Castiel down.

“Oh God!” Cas choked at the sensation, the hot pull of Dean’s mouth, expertly working him over, the danger of teeth causing him to writhe against the leather couch.

“Look how sensitive you are.” He kissed an open mouthed path to the other nipple, teasing this one with the precise tip of his tongue. Moving down to bite along the soft skin of his belly, sucking harder each time he heard Castiel whimper, pulling a florid mark to the surface, smiling into it, nuzzling lower.

Some of Cas’ uncontrollable wriggling was due to his erection pressing forcefully against the too tight jeans. Dean loved that Cas couldn’t stop himself from jutting his hips slightly, rubbing against his chest, then pulling back. He leaned up, looking Cas in the eyes as he pressed the full of his palm down onto the straining denim.

“This looks agonizing Cas,” He groaned, rolling the rigid mound of flesh between his fingers. Castiel sobbed. “Jeans are so tight, love how they make you look, but I like this best. I like that you can’t hide how much you want me.Tell me Cas, tell me how much you need me to help you with this.” Palms against his hips,he framed the clear line of Castiel’s cock between his hands and pushed up, rubbing the flesh against the stiff material, making it stand out even more. Castiel keened and arched, a flush bleeding out against his cheeks and throat.

“Yessss….help me- hel- it hurts Dean and I can’t stand it. Want you so bad...”

“Yeah baby, you need my help, don’t you? Need me to make you feel good, gonna get you so crazy for it. Show me. Let me see how hard you are.”

Castiel stared back at him, fevered but hesitant. This wasn’t something he did very often, Dean mused, or at all. Cas wasn’t used to giving in to what he wanted, but Dean was going to change that. Slowly, Castiel reached between them to undo the fly of his jeans, hooking his thumbs under his briefs and squirming his hips just enough that he could pull his erection out with one hand, springing up hot and turgid, the perfect round head shiny vermillion and begging for Dean’s mouth.

“Look at this pretty cock. Everything about you is so goddamn pretty. You gonna let me have this, Cas?” He traced a light touch down the line of his shaft, smirking when it jerked in response. “Tell me I can have you.”

Cas tried, sobbed once, pressed his lips together and nodded, wide-eyed and overwhelmed.

That wasn’t what Dean wanted. He gripped the waistband at the sides of Castiel’s hips and yanked him closer an inch, ghosting his breath where his fingers had been.

“Tell me.”

“You can have me,” Cas gasped, sucking air. “Anything! You can have anything you want, Dean!”

“I want your hands on the couch,” he stared Cas down. “And I want you to watch. Every second.”

He waited for Cas’ confirmation before his hand encircled his dick, the blood pumping fast against his fist. He teased him, unmerciful. Hand steady, licking, kissing, licking over and over, lapping the salt from his slit and mapping the delicious ridges of veins until he could hear the leather creak between Castiel’s fingers from frustration. Dean looked up at him and smirked.

The whole burning length of him slid so easy-quick between Dean’s lips. He was just the right size, wide enough to fill Dean’s mouth, just long enough that it took a little effort to work his way down. Cas tasted like heaven and Dean moaned around him. Castiel moaned in turn, shuddered, cried out helplessly as Dean pistoned his mouth up and down, sucking hard then swirling his tongue.

“That’s right babe,” He panted, licking his lips for effect. “Let me hear you get off.”

He dove back down, hungry for the feel of Castiel plugging up his throat, twisting his hand and shifting to suck on each soft round ball. Cas watched, exquisite pain making him beautiful. Sobbing, begging each time Dean pulled back to make it last. When his cock pulsed itself harder, the trail of fluid leaking across Dean’s tongue fuller, Dean shoved down deep as he could, suctioning in even sweeps and forcing Cas towards the edge. Just as his body tensed, balls tightening up, the door at the front of the bus banged open, the sound of several people jostling their way inside.

Castiel’s eyes went huge. There was a heavy curtain separating the back lounge, but it was almost certain that someone was going to make their way back here. Dean felt him tense up, as if to pull away, so he locked down, pressing his body against Castiel’s legs to keep him from moving, covering Cas’ mouth with one hand while the other maintained its work on his cock. Dean’s speed increased, he wasn’t going to let Cas go without getting him off. It wasn’t even an option. Castiel whimpered behind his hand, looked down at Dean, frightened, aroused, his body arched as the crest hit, there was nothing he could do but shout behind Dean’s palm and unload down his throat. Dean sucked all of it down, greedy, half crazed.

The footsteps got closer, and Dean yanked Castiel’s pants back on, buttoned them up and shot into place next to Cas on the couch, wiping the corners of his mouth just before the curtain shoved open.

Charlie didn’t say anything about Castiel’s dazed expression where he lay sprawled out next to Dean, whose own erection was clearly on display for all to appreciate. She just rolled her eyes, steered the girl she had tucked under one arm back around and then drew the curtain back into place.

===

PITTSBURG

“Goddamned Pittsburgh.” Charlie muttered as she descended from the bus, glowering in all directions. From the door of the other bus, Bobby crossed himself before setting foot on concrete.

“We’re just doing one day,” Meg trumpeted from the sidewalk in front of the theatre. “Buses leave tonight, so if you want to get out of here faster then _everyone_ helps load out.”

“I don’t understand,” Castiel looked around at the bright blue sky, the rolling green park across the street, the people milling past a row of shops and restaurants. “What’s wrong with Pittsburgh?”

“Bad juju, Cassie.” Gabriel shook his head, uncharacteristically serious.

“Just stick by me Cas.” Dean whispered as he passed, a quick brushing hand at his back, there and then gone.

===

The crowd roiled against the front of the stage, surging forward, howling, clawing, crashing against each other when they couldn’t sweep past security onto the stage. It was mayhem like Castiel had never seen, and from the grim looks on each of his friend’s faces, he wasn’t the only one that was concerned. They barreled through the set list, ignored the booing, ducked the trash and the bottles thrown at them from some unseen, impressive distance. A lit firecracker landed at Dean’s feet, spitting up sparks. Castiel watched him kick it hard back into the madness and stop his playing so he could flip off the crowd.

What was happening? Hadn’t these people bought tickets? What was the point of this if they hated the band so much?

“We love you Pittsburgh!” Sam shouted when they reached the final song.

“FUUUUUCK YOOOOOUUUUU!!!” A clearly disturbed individual screamed from the pit.

They had never packed up a show so quickly. But even with all hands on deck, it took over an hour.

Gabriel handed off the pieces of his drum kit for Castiel to haul to the equipment truck. There was an order to how they needed to be stowed, Castiel hoisted them one by one onto the bed, stacked them, strapped them down. Some of the other cases had been hastily tossed in by one of the roadies, the bungees not secured. Moving from stack to stack, Castiel untied them, rewrapped bonds and locked them properly down. It took longer than he anticipated.

He didn’t hear the commotion outside.

===

“The Tabernacle.” Was all Ash needed to say when he hauled a badly limping Benny into the parking lot. His ankle hung at an ugly angle.

“Go,” Bobby grunted at the brothers, “I got this here.”

Sam nodded, but Dean was already gone, tearing through the crowd, searching.

Backstage was empty. He wasn’t in any of the busses. Dean tore through the parking lot, fists tight.

“Cas?!” He jumped into the back of the truck, frantic. “CAS!”

“Dean? What is it?”

The second Dean spied him behind cases, he rushed around and grabbed him by the arms.  Panicked, relieved.

“Fucking hell you just gave me a heart attack! They got Benny. Come on.”

Charlie rallied the troops, already on her phone pulling up the street map. Sam, Gabe and Meg crowded around as Dean pulled an aggravated Castiel behind him.

“Just stop being ridiculous and get in the bus!”

“You’re not my keeper Dean, if anything it is my job to look after you!”

“Guys,” Sam tried to interject, “We gotta go.”

“Hang on,” Dean didn’t take his eyes off Cas. “We’re going to find the sons of bitches that attacked Benny and then we’re going to feed them their own teeth. This is not something you need to get involved in!”

“Guys!” Sam shouted, managing to corral Dean somewhat in the the general direction Charlie was leading them, the pack surging down the block with cries of war. Castiel stubbornly followed.

“You told me that I was a part of this family, Dean! Does that not involved defending our friends?”

“You’re gonna get hurt Cas! Don’t you understand what this is? Go back to the bus!”

The group fanned out, Charlie on point, already pulling her hair into a ponytail, murder in her eyes.

“Dean, respectfully, fuck off.”

“There they are!” Gabriel shouted, taking off across the park. Sam glared at his brother before springing into a run. Castiel shot past them both, too fast to catch.

There was a lot of them, the prime reason why they’d managed to corner Benny and mess him up in the first place. The man could handle more than his fair share in a fight, but nobody could handle a mob. Right at the center and the odds favorite on who had started all this, stood Assclown Steve. Every time they came through town - _every fucking time_ \- that guy started trouble, and this time it looked like he’d brought friends. Booze brave and posing in a huddle, the fuckers started in on their taunts the minute they spotted the musicians, oblivious to their actual circumstances.

“Look! They brought _girls_! These losers wanna hide behind their girlfriends!”

Everyone watched for one calm moment as Meg stalked right up to the guy without a word, fisted his shirt and headbutted him straight in the face. His nose exploded in a glittering spray of blood, the bone mashed sideways against his cheek, wet noises of shock lost under the sound of rapidly pounding feet and connecting fists. The gang might have been looking for a fight, but they hadn’t planned on one like this.

The brothers planted themselves center mayhem, taking on the guys that got funneled their way.

“I miss this Dean,” Sam kicked a guy dead in the chest, his leather pants creaking, watched the man roll backwards and struggle to his feet.

“Yeah,” Dean grunted into the punch, enjoying the jagged sting in his knuckles, the ache in his wrist. “You remember that time in Michigan?”

“When they had us on the roof? Yeah I thought we were gonna die that night!” he chuckled, shoving another assailant to the ground so he could deal with the one behind him. “Six!” He shouted at his brother, who spun around to elbow the guy trying to take his back.

“Thanks.”

“So you and Cas.” _Jab, jab, cross._

“Too late there buddy, Charlie already beat you to it.”

“No,” _Uppercut, shove_. “She gave you a pep talk. I wanna know if you actually pulled your head out of your ass or if we’re in for six more weeks of winter.”

“Sounds like- “ _Duck, tackle, stand._ “You two think this is somehow your business.” _Block, cross_.

“I have to deal with your stubborn ass bullshit, so you have to deal with mine. I’ve never seen you this happy with anyone before, Dean, Cas is it. I don’t want you to look back and realize it’s too late.”

“Sammy, can you please not ruin my good time? Especially when you’re wearing so much goddamned eyeliner?” _Hook, slip, duck, cross._

“Looks like he’s having a good time, too.” _Grab head, knee to the jaw._

Dean grappled with the guy that had got him on his back, twisting his head a few times so the man’s fist connected with concrete. He rolled their position and showed the loser how it was done, scanning the crowd for Cas while he pounded the guys’ face.

“Jesus.”

Ahead of them, at the edge of the park, Castiel whirled a terrifying dervish amid an angry group of three men. He used the dented body of a rust eaten Lincoln Continental to maintain his distance, rolling across the hood, tearing around the back end, picking them apart one by one, piece by piece. Dean and his friends were all scrappers, trained bone down in the no rules, claws out style of a back alley fight. Cas was a different animal, there was nothing blunt or gritty about the way he fought. He was calm, watched for openings, used his opponents attacks against them then spun under and around to swing a man head first into the bumper before bounding up the hood and over the roof to air tackled then next one to the ground.

Dean stood, shook out his hands, eyes on Castiel.

“Is Gabriel….doing parkour?” Sam asked, he too, was out of people to fight.

They paused to watch the man in question vault a railing, run up the side of a tree and backflip over a trashcan, screaming like a madman.

“Well I guess it’s confusing them?” Dean shrugged, hauling off to crack another punk’s cheek open who rushed them.

By the time the flashing lights and sirens whooped a warning up the block, the last remaining guys standing were already stumbling away in retreat.

Castiel appeared at his side, wordless, panting. Their hands found each other, fingers tightly twined as they ran with their friends into the night.

===

“You’re hurt.”

The bus swayed over the open highway, soft pulses of light barely penetrating the tinted windows of the back lounge. Everyone else was too keyed up to sleep, curled together up front, talking softly, laughing at John Oliver on the tiny built in television.

Half undressed, Dean turned when Castiel spoke, craned his neck to try and see the damage on his back. Just a few nice sized scrapes, maybe some bruises from where he’d been pinned to the sidewalk, nothing serious. He was more worried about his hands, already swelling a little, purple. He flexed them once, grimaced, but figured they’d be fine by the next show.

“Happens. How ‘bout you?” He pulled Castiel out of the shadows where he’d been lurking, looked him over. “You even get a scratch Jackie Chan?”

“I- I don’t know. I believe I’ve been much too excited to notice, I was helping Alfie with his face.”

“Yeah,” Dean chuckled at the memory of the kid’s black eye and hugely swollen cheek. “Kid’s gonna be sore in the morning. Here, lemme see your hands.”

Raising both obediently, Castiel watched Dean turn them over, run his thumbs over the raw knuckles. He moved up, smoothing his rough palms over Castiel’s arms, the only injury a small bruise above his right elbow.

“You hurt anywhere else?” Dean husked, stepping in closer. He skated fingers under the hem of his shirt, up his sides, peeling off the garment while Castiel raised his arms to help. All that pale skin begged to be tasted, the fine carved muscles of his chest, his slim, inviting hips, spawning a wicked dilemma over where to start first. “Looks ok, but I should check, just to be sure.”

He ran his hands up Castiel’s sides, kneading into the tiny muscles stitched along the ribs. “What about here, any soreness?” He murmured.

Castiel grunted, “No. It’s- that’s fine.”

“Turn around.”

Following the order quickly, Castiel found himself braced against the wall, Dean fitting his hips against the plump curve of his ass. Deft fingers skimmed his shoulders, around the slanted lines of his scapula, along the furrow of his spine, lips following, soft at first then pressed in wider mouthfuls. Suction, teeth, rasping tongue shooting lances of violet colored pleasure straight down into his tailbone. Castiel arched, scritched his fingernails against the lacquered wood and ejected each breath with a low, strangled cry.

“How does this feel?”

“Good,” Castiel gasped. “It feels good.”

“What about this?” Mouth latched to Castiel’s neck, Dean sucked languidly, tongue stroking the swell of flesh between his teeth.

“Mmhhh! Mmm-hmm!”

Dean trailed up the side of his neck, furrowed one hand in the tangle of dark locks and turned him just enough to take his mouth. Crowding in closer, closer, until he had Castiel nailed flat against the sliver of wall with the whole of his body. Castiel panted as one of Dean’s hands drifted down his side, teasing at the waistband of his pants.

“I should check everywhere, don’t you think?”

“Yes!”

A chuckle, warm and rich, puffed hot into the side of Cas’ neck, tripping a fault of shivers. He jut his hips back half an inch, just enough so Dean could tug the fastenings free and nudge the clothing down just below the crease of his buttocks. A cool breeze as Dean stepped back, then his wide, callous roughened hands were palming both cheeks, squeezing roughly, digging thumbprints into the tense muscle.

“This is a really fine ass,” he was back, pressing the unyielding length of his body against Castiel. He pulled one cheek aside, one fingertip skating down until it found the tight furl of muscle. Dean rubbed back and forth along the tender skin, never too hard, just enough so the gentle pleasure built into frustration, the little noises Castiel made increasing in demand, in tempo with his barely rocking hips. He could barely move, each breath shortened by the hard bracket of the wood and Dean’s body. He wanted more, god he wanted everything. “Would you let me feel inside you Cas? I want to know every inch of you. God, I just want to sink into you and fuck you slow until you scream.”

Castiel tensed.

“Unless,” Dean pulled his hand away. “Unless you don’t want that. You can fuck me if you want, I’ll do anything for you, Cas.”

“No!” Castiel whispered, turning them face to face. “No I want you to...to fuck me. I want that Dean, but won’t they hear?” He nodded to the front of the bus.

Dean smiled, stole a quick kiss….another….inclined his head, eyes never leaving Castiel.

“Sammy!”

The volume on the television spiked up several degrees, and not fifteen seconds later, a few tendrils of marijuana smoke drifted towards the back.

“See? We’re as good as alone.”

Part of him thought Cas might back out, and he wouldn’t blame him, but that part was abruptly silenced when Castiel stripped off the rest of his clothes, took Dean’s hand in his own and drew one thick finger into his mouth as far back as it would go. It was a filthy sight, those pink lips that Dean spent so much time picturing spread wide were wrapped prettily around his finger, cheeks hollowing as he sucked, eyes half lidded midnight blue.

“Goddamn you’re not even real.” Dean whispered as he pulled his spit slick finger slowly out, enjoying the drag of it against that full bottom lip. Still fully clothed, Dean shoved in closer, hitching Castiel’s leg up around his waist and finding his entrance once again. With smooth, steady force he pushed in all the way, holding it there in the perfect, silky heat. He twisted, and Cas mewled. He pumped in and out until the rapture turned to a glare and Castiel’s impatient fingernails found the meat of his back.

There was lube and condoms in one of the drawers, Dean hurried to find them then stripped his own clothes. “I want you in my bunk, _now_.” He growled and Castiel scrambled to comply, hoisting himself up gracefully and reclining back against the mussed sheets.

Dean fit himself in facing Cas, drew the tiny curtain behind him and snapped open the lube. He didn’t want to rush this, but Castiel seemed just as impatient as he was, thrusting himself down hard on two fingers, begging for more after three. Castiel rolled to his side and scooted as close as he could to the wall, it was a very tight fit for two grown men, but fuck if they weren’t going to make it work. Just to be an asshole, Dean reached around and tugged a few slow strokes with his lube slicked hand over Castiel’s erection, not enough to satisfy, enjoying the angry, desperate moans and the way Castiel couldn’t do more than arch an inch or so, the fat line of Dean’s cock slip sliding between his cheeks.

“Dean I can’t stand it! Come _on_!”

Dean nodded, not that Castiel could see, rolled on the condom, filled his hand with lube and slathered it on his cock, smearing the rest on a handful of Castiel’s balls, squeezing just enough to make him jump and curse.

He loved to hear Cas curse.

Leaning back as much as the bunk allowed, Dean held Cas open and watched himself sink, agonizingly slow, into the flexing pink channel of his body. Cas was an inferno inside, burning him up, sucking him deeper until Dean could barely pull air into his lungs it was so good. His hips pressed flush, his balls batting softly against Castiel’s own.

“Dean, what are you doing?” When he didn’t move.

“I just need to see it, baby. Need to see you taking my cock, all filled up. You feel so fucking good Cas.”

He drew back and shoved in hard before he meant to. It was killing him, Cas was going to burn him to  dust.

Looping his hands under to grip Cas’ shoulders, Dean pushed his feet against the bunk wall and shoved Castiel down hard on his dick, grunting at the tight grind.

“ _AHhh- huh_ \- you’re so deep!” Castiel sobbed. “So- _fuck- god_ \- so deep!”

“Yeah baby, you’re taking all of me, pinned down on my dick- fucking _take_ it!”

Dean began to shove in harder, his muscles burning, tensing, and there wasn’t enough room for Castiel to do anything but brace.

“Oh god Dean!” he hissed, eyes tight, strung like a bowstring and ready to snap.

“Louder!” Dean snarled. “I wanna hear how fucking hard you come, give it to me!”

Castiel let go, moaning, chanting Dean’s name with each punctuated thrust.

“Cas!” Clutching his hipbones, white light fizzed and sparked behind Dean’s eyes, pushing his hips in as far as he could as he came, grinding rough circles into Castiel’s prostate until he felt the man’s orgasm around him.

“Holy- _fuck-_ FUCK DEAN!” Castiel seized, again and again, and Dean wrapped his arms, his legs around him and held him as tight as he could.

He didn’t let go all night.

The next morning when they pulled into a rest stop, Meg bound onto their bus and managed to slap both Cas and Dean on the ass, licking her teeth when Castiel’s wince was much more pronounced.

“Looks like I won the pot boys! What’d I tell you?” She jumped onto Gabe’s back and pinched his cheeks. “Pittsburgh will always fuck you.”

===

SOMEWHERE NEAR DENVER

None of them saw a drop of rain, but the evidence of the flood was everywhere. Cars askew in the street, snaking sheets of pale brown mud demarcating how far the water had come. The detour signs took them off the highway, but hadn’t clearly shown them where to go after that. It didn’t take long to lose their way on back roads framed by muck trampled fields. The buses groaned to a hard stop, Gabriel tumbling from his bunk directly onto Sam

“I knew you wanted me,” Gabe teased, doing nothing to untangle them.

“We got a road block!” The driver called.

Everyone spilled out to stand around the deep, serrated split dividing the asphalt. A trickle of water snaked along the base of the gouge, curving delicately around the debris of what had once been this section of road. There was no way to get over it, and no way to turn the busses around, and driving backwards for thirty odd miles sounded like madness.

Meg tried 911, the city, the DOT, choking on her manners while she tried desperately to get someone out here to assist. They had a show in a day and a half and if it took a blood sacrifice in that field of corn over there, she was going to get them there.

“Look, someone’s coming.” Everyone turned to watch the figure ambling towards them from the cluster of buildings a few hundred yards away.

The man was sixty at least, skinny, sun browned limbs dangling loose where he perched on the back of his horse.

“Looks like yer stuck.”

Charlie shoved in front of Meg, cranking up her dimples. “We sure are! Any ideas?”

“Yup.” He stated flatly, nodding towards the house. “Come on, then.”

===

The farmstead of Mr. and Mrs. Ammon had come out the other end of the flood still standing, but roughed up some. Siding hung slanted, the walkways covered in mud, a shed reduced to scrap, every other building with missing parts strewn about the fields.

Bobby spied the old tractor and Mr. Ammon pointed out the large curving metal plates that had once been part of a silo. With the farmer’s permission, he had the boys chain it to the tractor, dragging it back towards the buses with most of the crew piled on and riding it like a sled. It would still be a while before they could patch up the road and inch the vehicles safely across. Dean surveyed the area then headed for the barn, scrounging up what tools he could find before setting to work on the house first. Castiel, curious, watched him gather the missing siding, fitting it in neat and nailing it back down. Pretty soon everyone was pitching in, sweeping, shoveling, putting the pieces back together.

“You seem to know what you’re doing.” Castiel followed Dean’s lead as they hoisted a wood fence beam back into place. There wasn’t much of the fence broken but it was slow going.

“Did a lot of odd jobs after I left the band,” he grunted as he jammed the tapered end into its slot. “Worked on cars, little carpentry, handyman stuff. Needed to get my mind off things more than I really needed the money. Crowley never let a check bounce, I’ll give him that.”

“Crowley….paid you? To leave the band?” Castiel brought over a coil of rope, stayed close by Dean’s side as the man cut it and tied the joints together.

“Crowley just did what Crowley does,” Dean paused.

He’d never talked to anyone about this who hadn’t been involved, people he’d been with for years, trusted with his life, but he still never gave it a voice because it had to do with Sam. And no matter what anyone might think of him, he could never be the cause of bringing shame or pity down upon his brother. But looking at Castiel, dark hair mussed, sweaty, the sun bleaching out the little wrinkles by his eyes, making him look younger. Dirty fingernails and easy patience, too sheltered to be enthralled by Dean’s fame, who made sounds when Dean touched him that haunted every waking thought. He looked like something Dean wanted to trust, wanted to hold in both hands and spend unplanned days teasing out a new piece.

He wanted to share himself, share everything, with Cas. Lisa had never inspired that in him, and maybe that had been part of their problem, but he’d used her as an excuse to lock himself down harder after she’d told him the baby wasn’t his.

“When we first started getting really popular, the label hired this tour manager, Ruby. I never liked her, she just felt like bad news, but she was good at her job, so I kept my mouth shut. Well Sam, he was gone, just took one look and laid himself out for that chic belly up. Then he started acting strange, getting secretive, disappearing after shows and starting fights with the band. Turns out the bitch had got him hooked on some pretty nasty stuff. Found out about it when I tracked them down to this shithole motel. Sam was out cold, almost overdosed, and her first instinct when I tried to call an ambulance was to pull a knife on me.”

“Were you alright?”

“Me?” Dean laughed. “I was fine, it wasn’t actually the first time someone’s done that to me.” They moved on to the next beam, Castiel patiently waiting for Dean to continue.

“I wanted to shut the whole thing down, take my brother home and get him clean, get out of the spotlight for a while. It was _our_ band, I wrote every song, but it wasn’t worth it if it cost me Sam. Crowley wasn’t having it, but thing was, most of our….demographic….at the time was young, impressionable and obsessed with Sam. Crowley couldn’t have a drug addiction and overdose in the news, but he couldn’t have me putting the cash cow out to pasture, and Sam wasn’t really willing to put the brakes on his career. So we made a deal, Ruby was out, I wouldn’t press charges against her for assault, Sam would go to a private, very quiet rehab and I would walk away. Crowley fed a story to the press that we broke up over a girl, which wasn’t a total lie, and since I was the one who wrote everything, I agreed not to join another band, or write for anyone else as long as The Hunters were together.”

“You lost everything.” Castiel murmured, inching in closer to Dean.

“I wouldn’t say that. I still had Sam. He got healthy, had a whole bunch more success….he’s happy, then I’m happy.”

“You’re a good man.”

“I don’t know about all that,” Dean blushed a bit, turned to look out over the flat open fields to hide his embarrassment.

“I do,” Castiel watched him until Dean finally turned, catching his eye.

===

As they traveled across the Plains and curved down toward the Southwest, Castiel got to see more of this country than he ever had in his life, and it all looked exactly the same.

Long hours on the bus playing card games for candy, watching Gabriel systematically prank everyone with whatever tools he could find at hand. Catching a bit of scenery in the window before Dean distracted him by smiling, breathing, standing too close. Afternoon load in at another theatre, cases rolled in, instruments tuned. Sound check, Chuck’s voice booming from the sky, Meg stalking the aisles, verbally assaulting another venue manager.

Screaming fans, beams of light flaring out, the fresnel lights hot by Castiel’s side where he stood in the wings, every night, watching.

Diners, gas stations, trekking from the very back of the Walmart parking lot because if anyone knew Sam Winchester was in there, there’d be a mob.

Late nights lying in his bunk, swaying as they drove, or missing the soothing motion when they weren’t. Staring up at the roof of his bunk imagining Dean up there until one of them figured the rest were asleep and slipped behind the curtain and into the other’s arms.

He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy in his life, possibility and freedom dissolving a tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying, years of it built up now cracking away like crumbling plaster. He and Gabriel grew closer, they lounged in empty green rooms and talked about music and the history of sugar and chanted in unison as they egged Alfie on into taking a sledgehammer to the toilets of a venue that had stiffed them on their cut of the merchandise.

It wasn’t until they hit Vegas that Castiel even considered that he hadn’t been doing his job. The last call he’d made to his mother had been two weeks ago in….in….hell he wasn’t even sure.

They had three nights in Vegas ahead of them with Crowley was waiting for them at the hotel. They didn't even manage to check in before he was marching up to Castiel.

“Naomi will be here in an hour. She wants to meet with us to discuss what exactly you’ve been doing that’s been keeping you so busy.” His expression, his side look at Dean, meant he likely had a pretty good idea.

Castiel, however, was more concerned about what he’d done just ten minutes ago at his cousin’s insistence.

“Shit.”

===

LAS VEGAS

“What do you mean you gave him mushrooms?!” Dean yelled, pacing the suite.

Gabriel shugged, looking over to Castiel who stood in the middle of the room calm as anything.

“I wanted to see what would happen!”

Sam, Charlie and Benny lounged together on the bed, snickering as Dean shot them dirty looks.

“So let me get this straight,” he stepped into Castiel’s space. “Gabriel- this guy right here- handed you an unidentified lump of _something_ , told you to eat it, _and you did_?!”

“It was not entirely unidentified, I assumed it was drugs.” He intoned. “And I had no way of knowing my mother would be meeting us here.”

Gabriel patted Dean on the shoulder, “Listen, he should be fine. Cas can handle liquor like a pro, and I only gave him, like, the smallest possible dose. He probably won’t even feel anything. We’ll go down there, make nice with Auntie Nay and come back up here and watch Cassie watch the ceiling melt.”

The trio on the bed snorted in chorus.

“Don’t get too comfy,” he glared at them. “You’re _all_ going. We are all going to that meeting as one well behaved family and we’re gonna cover for Cas. You get me?”

“You got it brother,” Benny tipped his hat, Charlie and Sam saluted.

“Dean, I don’t think there is any need to worry. I don’t feel a thing.”

===

Dean took a quick shower, ransacked three hotel rooms until he found enough of Castiel’s pilfered clothing to make an entire outfit. He’d be wrinkled all to hell, but he was sure they could just pass that off as life on the road without access to a drycleaner. By the time he made it back to the room, Cas was on his knees in front of the huge window overlooking the strip, pressed against the glass.

“He hasn’t moved for twenty minutes.” Sam jerked his head in Cas’ direction.

“Cas?”

Cas turned around, smudges from his hands and face visible on the glass. “Dean! Did you know? It’s always been here, all around. Heaven and Hell, they’re not separate! They extend down into our world and exist at different levels, we could just never _see_ it…..”

“Holy crap.” Dean jerked back when he got a look at Castiel’s pupils. “He looks like a damn Anime cartoon!”

Sam burst out laughing, “Oh my god Dean you are never going to be able to hide how stoned he is!”

“Just…..go get some food or something while I get him dressed, maybe that will help.”

Sam went over to the welcome basket, pulled out a granola bar and an apple. Dean managed to get Castiel into his clothing, with only minimal difficulty.

“This goes on the _outside_ .” He babbled as his pants cinched into place. “It goes on the outside and I am _inside_. I’m not doing this...I’m on the inside…..”

“Here, which one do you want?” Sam held up the food. Castiel zeroed in on the apple and glared at it, frozen. The brothers shared a look over his head. “I guess he wants this one.”

It took almost ten minutes of study for Castiel to finally take a bite, but by that time Dean had gotten him dressed and mostly figured out how to tie a tie. “Maybe they won’t notice.”

Cas grimaced around a mouthful of apple. “It tastes like molecules.”

===

Sitting around the conference table, they’d made it past introductions. No one knew where Gabe got the glaucoma eye drops for Cas, but this was Vegas so no one was completely surprised. Castiel stayed mostly silent, which could be read as reserved, thank god, so Crowley and the very unamused looking Naomi Novak didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

“Can I offer anyone refreshments?” Crowley began.

“I no longer require food.” Castiel offered.

“We just ate!” Sam butted in.

“Very well, I’m actually pleased you all decided to join us. It will give Ms. Novak a chance to see that you are not the degenerate rock stars the press has made you out to be.”

“Castiel,” she didn’t spare a look for anyone else at the table. “I wish to know why you have fallen out of communication. I was very clear that I wanted to know of any and all behavior that might jeopardize my investment.”

“I have watched over these brothers and their friends. I watch everything. Dean Winchester is the Righteous Man.”

“There was just nothing to tell!” Charlie offered. “You know, Cas...stiel was around all the time and we didn’t want to cause problems so we’ve been staying out of trouble.”

“I don’t believe you are an appropriate judge of trouble, Miss Bradbury, which is why I’d prefer to hear from my son.”

“I am an angel of the Lord.”

“Well that didn’t take long.” Gabriel muttered to no one in particular.

“He’s been reading us Scripture!” Dean threw it out there, looking over at his brother’s poorly disguised _what the hell_ expression.

“Is that so?” Naomi looked pleasantly surprised. “Which Scripture has he been reading to you?”

Everyone turned to look at Dean.

“Uhhmm….the one about humility? In the face of the Lord….?” he trailed off, praying it was enough..

“Can’t you see how bright his soul is? It’s blinding.” Castiel tried to stand then, arms raised in glory. Gabe tugged him back down into his seat and wedged his arms to his sides. By now, Crowley was murdering each of them with a glance, well aware of what was happening and totally unwilling to dig them out.

“Uh...yea though the Lord…..” Dean hurried to interrupt. “ _Our_ God…” He gestured at the group. “.....umm, did come into the land of the Israelites, the man known as…..Ahab- did- turn away in his hubris and was made to suffer byyy...the umm….beast of the sea…..”

“Dumbass.” Charlie whispered.

“Language! I know you are all an uncivil group of degenerates but you will at the very least try to maintain yourself around you betters.”

“Hey!” Charlie yelped.

“Now wait a minute,” Dean shoved forward in his seat. “Who the fuck do you think you are? Coming here and insulting us does not make you our better! You slap a little money on the table and think you run the show! Bullshit! You didn’t make our music, you didn’t get us fans, you don’t have a single goddamned useful skill, so all you get to do is be the piggy bank. And do you know what the piggy bank does? It sits down and shuts the fuck up and lets us do what we do so you can make more money and pretend like that makes you important!”

Silence.

“Was that too much?” Dean looked over at Sam.

“I actually think that was pretty succinct.”

“How dare you! Without my investment, you can’t put up a single show, you have nothing! ”

“Well, I wouldn’t say nothing.” Sam challenged.

“What?”

“I mean, we’ve been selling out practically every show. Someone may have possibly leaked online that this was the last tour, so there’s a lot of interest. I’d say that, right now, we have more than enough to carry us through the rest of our dates without you.”

“Do not try to play at business Mr. Winchester. Crowley?” She turned to him.

Crowley, it was easy to note, wasn’t entirely unamused by this turn. “Well, “ he leaned back in his chair, steepling his hands. “Looking at this from a purely business perspective, I’d say Sam is not  entirely incorrect. If you were to decide to withdraw from any further obligations, I’m sure I could manage things somehow. The money I’d save keeping the balance of your return would be most helpful.”

“Isn’t it strange that you can buy sound?” Castiel was staring at his own hands. “You can buy it but not keep it. Currency in exchange for invisible waves.”

“Castiel what in the world are you talking about?”

“I am the angel of Thursdays! Dean Winchester has known my flesh and I his! Usually in his bunk because he remembers the lube.”

It was a free for all after that, Naomi was not, it turned out, completely opposed to foul language. Crowley volleyed back with his arch smugness while the band members shouted over each other. It was Crowley who finally stepped in to put an end to it.

“Why don’t you all give Ms. Novak and I a chance to talk in private.”

“Uh guys,” Gabe looked around. “Where’s Cas?”

===

“Hello Dean.”

“Cas!" He yelled into the room phone. "Where the fuck are you? Why did you leave?"

“It was for your protection. I didn’t realize it before, but my mother is also an agent of Heaven. She wishes to use me to spy on you.”

Dean sighed tightly, Castiel was tripping balls somewhere in Vegas, so there was no hope a question like _where are you_ would be answered with something logical, like an address. “But you’re not gonna do that, remember? So tell me where you are, I’ll come get you and we can figure out what to do about your mom.”

“The bureaucratic angels are the worst, did you know that? They use instruments of torture to get into your head and take control of your will. They’re called Powerpoints. I dislike them very much.”

“What is that noise, are you in a casino? What do you see around you?”

“Cats.”

“Cats?”

“I believe I’ve come across a pagan temple that primarily worships cats. There are several that roam free here, clearly they are in charge. The acolytes offer them praise in the form of sexual congress. This place is a den of iniquity, I don’t believe I should be here.”

“Jesus Christ, are you in a _cathouse_?”

“Yes Dean, I already told you. Perhaps I have been lead here to provide salvation…...Wh- ? ………….It appears the telephone has acquired consciousness, it is attempting to communicate through a series of beeping sounds. This phone knows so much, it listens to people…… Dean! Dean, what if Naomi’s listening too! I need to hide, she’s listening right now!”

“NO! Cas don’t hang up! Ask someone where you are!”

“I will interrogate the cat.”

“A human Cas! Put another human on the phone!”

===

There were an infuriating abundance of cat themed brothels in Las Vegas. Six in a half mile radius alone, it turned out. The unflappable man at the concierge desk had given him brochures for all of them with the phone numbers circled and his personal recommendations. It didn’t take long after that to track down the one currently entertaining the man in a trenchcoat talking to cats. The Scratching Post was practically next door, a nice woman named Mink giving him concise directions.

“No need to hurry, hon. Your friend’s adorable.”

He ran.

“There’s my Dean!” Castiel jumped up from where he’d been sitting, the chair hung on all sides by women in stretch lace and body glitter. “Isn’t he beautiful? Look at how brightly his soul glows, he is the Righteous Man, after all.”

“Well hello there Righteous Man,” one of the girls glided into his side. “We’ve had all kinds wander in here blasted out of their gourds, but never had one that spent the whole time talking about ‘nother guy.”

Castiel hurried over, and without any subtlety whatsoever, pulled Dean by the arm out of the woman’s space. “I told you, it is because I am in love with him, but I am unsure how to move forward. His life is exciting and he’s so very talented, and I’m just a mid level finance lawyer at my family’s firm.”

“Cas….” Dean’s chest constricted.  He was high, he couldn’t really mean what he’d said. Could he?

“He is also exceedingly good at the sex.”

“Alright, Fear and Loathing, let’s get you out of here.”

By the time they made it back to the hotel, Naomi and Crowley were waiting at the valet beside a black limo, their conversation a salvo of icy looks. They fell silent as the two men made their way up the drive, watching.

Ten minutes later the limo drove away, with Castiel inside.

===

Shows went up across the southwest. The Hunters played the final leg of their tour in sold out stadiums, every album they’d ever made spiking in sales. It was more money and success than they’d ever seen.

Dean called Castiel every day.

The messages were always the same, but none of them were answered. He tried the firm directly, and was put into an endless hold loop every time, someone had told them what to do if he called. In Los Angeles, Crowley took him out for drinks and broke the news Sam had told him about months ago. He was out, San Francisco would be his final performance with The Hunters.

That night he texted Cas.

_I love you, too._

===

He couldn’t hear a thing but the roar of the crowd. His seat was so far back, the only way he could really see the band was when their images flashed on one of the giant screens overhead. The woman next to him sobbed and screamed each time Sam uttered another syllable, turning to him with a tearstained face in the hopes he would share her fervor. Castiel couldn’t say that he enjoyed this at all, had no idea why anyone would want to participate in this kind of mayhem when there were any number of ways to enjoy music that wouldn’t get you crushed and trampled and deaf.

But he watched until the end. Dean was magnificent. Even over the distortion of the crowd, the amplification resounding through the arena, he had never heard Dean play as well as he did that night. And when it was over, Castiel found himself cheering just as loudly as the red-faced woman next to him, taken in by the energy and applause.

Getting backstage was another matter.

“But I know the band.”

The brick tower in a vee neck barely even looked at him. “Sure buddy, whatever you say. But no pass, no dice.”

“But I work for them! With them- I used to. Just- just ask anyone back there! Just go get Dean.”

“Yeah!” The drunk teenager behind him shoved in. “Go get Dean!”

“You friends with him too cupcake?”

“No, this young man is trying to deceive you. Now if you could please contact- “

“Castiel!”

Castiel squinted at the figure running up to them from the hall.

“Hey, he’s with me.” Alfie huffed. “The- uhhh- one of the Winchesters wants a brunette.”

“I’m a brunette!” the kid yelled after them, ignored.

“Alfie, I’m so happy to see- did you always have an anthropomorphic hot dog tattooed on your arm?”

Alfie sighed and looked down at the maniacally smiling weiner.

“No, no I didn’t. It’s lucky I saw you, everyone’s about to head out. There’s a party at the hotel.”

Castiel trailed after him until they found Sam, leaning against the wall, on the phone.

“Maybe when we get- wait, hang on. I’m gonna have to call you back. Cas!”

He ran up, scooping Castiel into an enthusiastic embrace.

“Dean’s gonna be so happy to see you!”

The sudden wave of self doubt pulled him up short. “Will he?”

An amused look came over Sam but he didn’t respond, steered Castiel down the hall to a closed door.

“Go get ‘im tiger.” He slapped him on the back and walked away.

Castiel took a deep breath, knocked.

“Fuck off.” Came the muffled reply. Castiel opened the door just enough to peek around the corner. “I said fu- Cas?”

Dean jumped up from his seat, Castiel slipped all the way inside, closing the door behind him.

“I could still ‘fuck off’.....if you’re too busy….”

Dean didn’t move any closer, and neither did Cas. “Will you knock that off? What are you doing here?”

“I saw your show. You were astounding.”

“You turning into a fan, Cas?” He teased, Castiel smiled, embarrassed but without an answer. “I called you, you know.”

“I know. I needed to….sort through some things.”

“Oh yeah?” He tried to sound casual. “You come up with anything?”

“I did. I remembered that you had once told me I needed to set aside some time to explore the full catalogue of ‘Zeppelin’, and it would appear I finally have that time since I quit my job.”

“You….hold up, first, don’t air quote Zeppelin, it’s unnatural. But you….you quit? What are you going to do?”

“I thought- I thought I might look into a career as a financial advisor for musicians. I was hoping you might know of someone who could use such a service. Perhaps someone with an interest in starting a new band.”

He was in Dean’s arms, strong arms holding him against the door, grasping one side of his face for the best angle. And any other words Castiel might have had were swallowed up under the soft, demanding press of lips, the sound his own laughter as he held on tight.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
